Brotherhood
by Matt Morwell
Summary: Our friendly neighborhood arachnid is invited to join a band of nonsapiens. But things are not as they seem, and SpiderMan has no one to turn to...
1. Chapter 1

_Brotherhood_

_by Matt Morwell_

  


_A/N: This is my first Spider-Man fic. I hope you enjoy it, as it took me a while to write. I'll be updating every couple of days or so._

-------

On a dark, unseasonably warm fall night in the middle of Manhattan, a dark silhouette could be seen swinging through the sky, prowling the walls of the highest skyscrapers and the streets of the lowest alleys. 

  


Spider-Man swung up high, hit the apex of his swing, released the web, let himself dangle in freefall for a moment, then pressed his center fingers into his palm, shooting out another webline. The line hit the underside of a gargoyle perch atop a cathedral, and Spider-Man quickly wrapped the web around his wrist before releasing the palm sensor; no sense in falling countless stories to the ground because of stupidity. 

  


The momentum of his powerful swinging took him to a plane level with the gargoyle perch. He swung his legs out further, letting the line begin to wrap around the perch before releasing that one, as well. 

  


He hung in freefall yet again, almost hovering above the gargoyle. Then, slowly, inexorably, gravity took over, and his feet touched down behind the gargoyle. 

  


As if to tempt fate, he hunched down and sat on his heels, the toes of his red boots hanging an inch beyond the ledge. The slightest breeze or loss of equilibrium could easily send him over the edge. 

  


Spider-Man began his watch. 

  


Staring silently through the gigantic lenses of his mask, he paraphrased the old saying in his mind:_Another day, another supervillain..._

  


Many days had passed since he'd seen any trouble in this area, or in many others. Apparently he was having quite the effect on the crime rates, or so he liked to believe. After all, there were also the Avengers and the Fantastic Four, as well as a host of numerous others all ready to defend this fair city from its unfair antagonists. 

  


That aside, he had a feeling that this place might bring him the satisfaction of knowing that he was helping out the people of Manhattan in his own way. He almost ached to take out a couple of mooks waiting in dark alleys; to see that there wasn't much trouble was a good sign, but on the other hand, if there was no trouble being caused, there was little point in him donning the heat-trapping scale mesh costume every evening to go out and battle phantoms. 

  


He soon found that his feeling for this place, however, had been right. His sharp eyes caught the sight of a small motorcycle gang ripping through traffic, wielding chains, crowbars, baseball bats, and other assorted, unimaginative weapons. 

  


_... or perhaps just your average, uneventful day..._

  


He crouched even lower for a moment, then shoved off the ledge, freefalling down to the center of the action. 

  


The gang had by this time chosen their target, a typical New York taxi with a pair of bejeweled, aristocratic-looking people, scared out of their wits. The gang was circling the car, and bystanders -- as well as other cars -- kept their distance. 

  


The taxi driver got out in a rush of defiance; a massive mistake. One of the gang lashed out at the driver with his chain and caught the man in the face, knocking him to the street in a spray of blood. 

  


The gang member dismounted his bike, chuckling sadistically, and raised his chain above his head, intent on beating the cabbie further... 

  


When a spider-web shot out and caught the ganger's arm in its super-adhesive grip. 

  


The line began to rapidly retract, yanking the confused and misguided teenager into the air. He screamed in surprise and fear, for he suddenly realized who was doing this. 

  


Spider-Man, clinging upside-down to the wall of a nearby office building, dragged the protesting boy all the way up to his position, then detached his webline. One strong hand gripping the boy's shirt was all that was saving him. 

  


The boy couldn't see Spider-Man's face behind the mask or the reflective surfacing of his lenses, but he knew exactly what he was going to do if the man let him go. 

  


Spider-Man knew it, too. 

  


But he wasn't about to let the boy do it. Not when he'd committed such a brutal act. 

  


Spider-Man suddenly detached himself from the wall, flipping around in the air and hitting the ground nearly thirty feet below his original position, taking the boy with him. 

  


Before any of the other startled gangers could react, Spider-Man slammed the boy against the wall and sprayed him neck to foot in web, rendering him immobile. 

  


One ganger shouted, "Get him!" 

  


Spider-Man's shoulders slumped, and he sighed heavily as he turned around. "We've got a learning disability, here." 

  


The first ganger rushed up with a crowbar, powering forward with what he clearly thought was a lightning-quick, rock-solid hit. 

  


Spider-Man's eyes narrowed behind his mask as he watched the boy's movements... 

  


Relied on his spider sense... 

  


A sudden flash went off behind his eyeballs... 

  


He reached out and wrapped his hand around the crowbar mid-swing, stopping it directly in its tracks. 

  


The ganger was not so lucky. He kept moving, and he tried to hold on to the crowbar. He moved straight around Spider-Man's outstretched arm, having expected an attack, and then ended up flat on his back by the sudden inertia of his weapon. 

  


Spider-Man flipped the crowbar around and jammed its straight end into the concrete of the sidewalk next to the kid's neck, then forced it down with his foot until the arch of the bar was pressing against the attacker's larynx. 

  


Another flash went off behind his eyes, and without even looking up from the first ganger, his upturned fist shot out like a piledriver, catching a second attacker just under the diaphragm. The man doubled up, gasping in pain, and crumpled to the ground. 

  


A third attacker, this one with a baseball bat, ran up screaming. Spider-Man grinned sadly and shook his head as the ganger moved. "All spirit... but no brawn and no brain." 

  


He caught the baseball bat in his hand just as he had done with the crowbar the crowbar, but he gave some ground to the ganger just for kicks. 

  


Literally. 

  


A split-second later, a red boot put sixteen feet between Spider-Man and his attacker. It also put a considerable amount of tobacco-laced carbon dioxide in the air where the attacker's face had been. 

  


A scream pierced the hot night. 

  


Spider-Man snapped his head around and saw that two gang members, paying no attention to the fight, were trying to wrestle the couple still inside the taxi from the vehicle. 

  


Barely an instant passed before two lines of web were dragging the gangers backward across the pavement, well away from the taxi. 

  


The gangers were roughly hauled to their feet by the webslinger. 

  


Another flash behind the eyes. 

  


Two red-gloved hands reached out and bashed the gangers' heads together. 

  


A faint glow appeared on the periphery of Spider-Man's ethereal vision. It meant danger was imminent, but not direct just yet. 

  


He turned to the street and saw the source of his spider sense's agitation. The final gang member was still mounted on his bike, holding a lead pipe in his right hand. "You can stop a crowbar, Spider-Man, but can you stop this?!" 

  


The bike's engine revved, and the ganger sped towards the webslinger full throttle. 

  


The bike bore down on its target. 

  


Spider-Man made a prodigious leap, shooting a webline downward as he did so. At the same time, he fired another line toward a building on the other side of the street, hoping he didn't get ripped in two by the improvised act. 

  


The first web caught the back of biker's neck dead-on, and pulled him upward. The biker yelled and instinctively held on to his bike, which rose into the air with him as the second webline caught the building. The biker quickly realized he couldn't carry the weight, and he dropped the bike, which promptly bounced on its tires and landed noisily on its side. 

  


The biker saw a wall come rushing up to him. 

  


It was the last thing he saw. 

  


Spider-Man released both weblines and landed next to the downed biker. He crouched low over the punk, waved his fingers tauntingly, and uttered, "Nighty-night." 

  


He looked over his shoulder to see that a cadre of Good Samaritans had taken to the street, trying to help the injured cabbie and reassure the terrified couple. 

  


He thought this all well and good. He had done his part; it was time to go. 

  


A webline sailed through the air to strike a random building, and Spider-Man left the scene. 

  


*** 

  


Two dark figures stood quietly in an alley near the scene of the fight. One pale set of eyes was full of pain, determination, and calculation. The other set glowed yellow, their slitted pupils filled with confidence, contempt, and malice. 

  


"Look at them," said a youthful feminine voice, echoing through the alley. "First they cower from such minor impudence, then they huddle around those they believe to be of use." 

  


"They are nothing if not hypocritical," agreed a second voice, this one older and more distinguished. More meticulous. "But he has great potential. Potential that we need to harness." 

  


"He protects them," she hissed. "I say this is a lost cause. You're wasting your time with him." 

  


"It will take only... minor incidents to change his mind," he replied patiently. "He is the target of as much scandal and controversy as we are. It will be a simple matter. Keep an eye on him, but be careful." 

  


One figure rose into the air, unaided by any known mechanics. 

  


The other faded from view. 

-------

_Drama! Please review._


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: None_

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At 3:14 A.M., Spider-Man ended his vigil over Manhattan, webslinging back to the window of his modest apartment. He quietly slid the window upward and climbed inside, then shut the window behind him and closed the blinds. 

He pulled his sweat-drenched mask off, revealing the soaked visage of Peter Parker, young freelance photojournalist trying to get a steady job with the Daily Bugle and concerned primarily with this month's Visa bill. 

_Damn the concept of opulent spending,_ he thought, flipping his mask onto the empty bed. MJ was out of town, hunting down her own career for a while. Leaving him to worry about his troubles the way he liked doing it best. 

By being pessimistic. 

He pulled the clinging scale-mesh top of his costume up over his head, noting the pain coursing through his right shoulder as he did so. He tossed the sweat-stained garment next to his mask, then rotated his right arm. Again, pain lanced across his shoulder. He reached up to it with his left hand and massaged it, then decided it was probably bruised. _Some Ben-Gay should do it._

He slipped his web-shooters off his forearms and placed them on the bedside table, more carefully than the previously stripped items. Unlike the costume, the web-shooters were delicate technology and could suffer damage, encased though they were in thin titanium plating. Excessive jostling could cause something to come loose, or cause one of his reserve web-pellets to explode. That could make quite a mess. 

Peter sat on the bed, shucked out of his boots and pants, emptied the top of its varied contents -- tracers, spare change, a memo to himself -- and tossed the entire costume to the floor beside the bed. He had another one exactly like it; this one could wait to be washed until morning. 

Right now, all he needed was sleep. 

*** 

On a small island near Manhattan, four silhouettes of varied shape and size appeared. 

The leader. "How close to completion is the weapon?" 

The shortest. "I need another two or three days." 

"Perfect. By that time, we shall have increased our ranks." 

The woman. "What makes you so sure he will join us?" 

"Why would he not? He knows the sting of discrimination, just as we do. It would be only natural for our cause to become his. We have had this conversation once already." 

The tallest. "I don't believe he has potential." 

"You'll see his true potential when he joins us." 

The woman. "And if he doesn't?" 

"If he is not our ally, then he is our enemy. And we will deal with him accordingly. Were you able to track him?" 

"Only to a general area. I'm not sure how his ability to sense danger operates, so I'm not sure how to proceed. I didn't follow him beyond the border of a residential area." 

"Stay well-meaning. Keep the optimistic objective in mind. Present no threat. He can't sense danger where it isn't present." 

*** 

The next morning found Peter waking up at 8:47 A.M. He groaned and dragged his skinny self out from under the warm covers of his bed. 

_I can't thrive on five hours of sleep... maybe I should just take it easy for a while and let the others have their turn at it._ "The others" was his term for the various superheroes and hero organizations that could be found all over the NYC area. He wasn't quite sure what made NYC and Manhattan such prime targets for the first stage in world domination, galactic domination, or what have you... all he really had time to worry about was getting rid of the bad guys infesting the streets. 

He stumbled into the kitchen and raided the fridge. He found four different kinds of meat, all wrapped in foil and all looking quite edible. He pulled them out, plopped them onto one of his cheaper plastic plates, hacked at them hastily with a knife, and stuck the portions in the microwave for a minute. As they heated up, he replaced the meat he wasn't planning on eating... he could have put it all in one of the sheets of foil he'd originally removed. 

He topped the double-cooked meat with two slices of toast and an extra large glass of orange juice. The food was okay, but the OJ tasted somewhat peculiar. It had more of a kick to it than he generally liked. He shrugged as he put his dishes on the counter and headed into the bathroom to take a shower. 

_But if I don't do the Spidey bit for a while, I won't have any pictures to bring in to Jonah._ Peter snorted as he turned the spigot. _I can just hear him now: "Parker! Where the hell is Spider-Man? I tell you, that damn webhead is up to nothing good!" Wonder how I could respond to something like that... "Well, J.J., I guess that just means you can't live with him and can't live without him."_

Peter chuckled again and grimaced as he stepped into the cold stream. "Yeah," he said aloud, "That'd be good." 

_Still_, he thought, _no Spidey means no paycheck. I got away with it last night after that bonus, but it's not gonna carry me over for a week. Guess I'd best get to some of the other assignments, anyway... maybe they'll have something good in store for me. After all those elections, it's good not to have to stand outside churches and bug people about who they voted for._

He turned the cold water up to one of the hotter marks, and soon he was rolling his shoulders and flexing his considerable muscles as the hot water helped get rid of some of the kinks. 

_Whatever they have for me today, please don't let politics be involved..._

*** 

Ben Urich smiled as he saw the despairing look in Peter's eyes. "Sorry, Peter, but you can't always take those snapshots of the webslinger, now, can you? Especially not during the day." 

_Don't I wish_, Peter thought. Out loud, though, he groaned. "I really didn't want politics today." 

Ben shrugged. "Politics are what run the city. Otherwise there'd be nothing here for that hero of yours to defend." 

_Don't I wish._ Peter sighed. "All right, fine. When's the meeting?" 

"About two hours. You've got a little free time until then." 

Peter snorted. "What do you suggest I do to amuse myself with a measly two hours? You know traffic's impossible." 

Ben offered another shrug. "Go ogling your most recent accomplishment?" 

"What, Spider-Man pics?" 

"No, seeing smoke come out of Jonah's ears at the sight of your Spider-Man pics." 

Peter laughed. "Is he on another one of his 'I can't take that damn webhead anymore!' trips?" 

Before Ben could answer the question, however, a fast-talking, slightly accented, and extremely loud voice exclaimed, "I can't take anymore of that damn webhead!" This exclamation was followed by a muffled bang. 

Ben _tsk_ed. "You'll never be the master until you can predict him word for word." 

Peter shrugged. "Close enough." 

A louder _bang_ accented Peter's words, and across the floor came storming a short man wearing the stereotypical journalist's clothing and an expression more suited to that of Adolf Hitler staring into the face of an American soldier. His features did nothing to improve this image, and the cigar he perpetually held in a death grip between his gray teeth was the capper. He bore a rolled-up newspaper in his hand, and his squinting, beady eyes were locked on Peter. 

"Um, I'm gonna go," said Ben, a small smile flitting across his features. He stepped away to his cubicle. 

"Parker!" J. Jonah Jameson roared, loud enough to be heard two floors in either direction. "What the hell do I pay you for? I tell you to bring me pictures of Spider-Man, and you bring me _this_! What the hell is this, anyway?!" 

JJJ shoved the front page of the issue of the _Daily Bugle_ he was holding in Peter's face, and Peter stared at it for a moment. "Um... an ad for Hoagie-Oagie's?" 

"Keep talking, Parker. Each word is a hundred bucks off your paycheck." Jonah pulled the paper away from Peter's face and pointed straight at the picture in the center of the paper. "I'm talking about _this_!" 

Peter shook his head. "You wanted pictures of Spider-Man. Unless I'm blind, that's a picture of Spider-Man." 

"You _are_ blind, Parker! That's your problem!" Jonah reached out a fist and rapped on the side of Peter's head. "Can't you see what he's doing? _Look_ at it, for God's sake!" 

Peter decided to play along and made a big show of leaning in, staring at it for a moment, and stroking his chin thoughtfully before slowly responding, "Well... it seems to me... that he's fighting a gang." 

Jonah shook his head fiercely. "Open your eyes, Parker! He's _rallying_ the gang!" 

Peter was genuinely confused. "Huh?" 

"I say every punch that he threw was nothing but a light tap! It's a challenge to see how many gang members it'll take to 'beat' him! He's looking to rally a huge gang to take over our streets! These kids weren't busted up nearly as bad as if anybody else had done it!" 

Peter shook his head. "I've got no idea what you're talking about. All I saw him do was fight a gang. I took a picture of it. You're paying me to take pictures of him, right?" 

"What I want, Parker," Jonah barked, "is for you to capture the _spirit_ of what he's trying to do. Get me some snapshots soon and I'll show you what I mean." He sneered at Peter. "I'm sure that mind of yours will figure out where he strikes next, being the bright boy you are." 

Jonah rolled up his paper and marched away, the black cloud over his head quite evident across the entire floor. 

Seemingly out of nowhere, Ben stepped up to Peter. "Hmm... how many points for you this time around? I think I counted four." 

Peter snorted. "Probably means forty less to go to my Visa bill." 

"I wouldn't worry about it too much. Jonah doesn't make a habit of knocking money off people's paychecks. And anyway, he's not the one who fills them out." Ben winked at Peter. "The man's just a blowhard. I'd love to see Spider-Man crash right through his window and give _him_ a talking-to." 

Peter shook his head. "That would only reinforce Jonah's belief that Spider-Man's out to get him." 

"True. But it'd still be fun to see." 

"I suppose it would, at that." 

"Glad you see things my way." Ben smiled. "The council meeting isn't for a while. Grab yourself a candy bar or something. Call Mary Jane... I'm sure she'd love to hear from you. A beautiful woman like that shouldn't be left in the cold." 

"Don't I know it." Peter grinned, but inwardly, he realized that Ben was more right than he could know. _And especially with being Spider-Man, she's always worrying about me. I really should call her._

He nodded, his decision made. He made his way out of the _Bugle_ and to a nearby line of phone booths, all empty. Arbitrarily choosing the one farthest left, he slipped a few coins into the money eater and tapped in MJ's cell phone number. 

"Hello?" 

He smiled; hers was the most beautiful voice he'd ever heard. "Hi, honey. I just wanted to call... see how you're doing." 

"Tiger! Wow. Who put you up to it?" 

Peter chuckled. "I had that one coming." 

"And many more, but I love you anyway. What're you up to?" 

"Have to go with Ben to a council meeting. They're gonna be discussing the so-called mutant crisis." 

MJ snorted. "That sounds like fun." 

"Yes, indeed." Peter smiled sadly. "I miss you." 

"I miss you, too, tiger," she responded. "But there's a lot of opportunity out here. I just can't miss it." 

"I know. And I hope that you'll land something big. Then we can move to some resort and I won't have to worry about the superhero act." 

"Hard times?" 

"No, actually... the crime's down around here, for once. I'd been thinking about taking a couple nights off." 

"Then you probably shouldn't." 

Peter grinned and frowned, two expressions vying for the majority of his face. "Why do you say that?" 

"Because trouble always stirs whenever you're not around." 

Peter slapped his forehead. "I knew it! You've fallen for Van Damme! Couldn't handle the handsome photographer, could you?" 

MJ giggled. "Don't worry, tiger, I'll explore how handsome you are when I get back." 

Peter smiled. "Lucky me." 

"You _should_ consider yourself lucky." MJ harrumphed amusedly. "Well, I've got to get going, tiger. I've got an interview in a little bit. Gotta make sure I look the part." 

"Okay. Love you." 

"Love you, too. Stay safe." 

Peter hung up, smiled, and headed back to the _Bugle_. _There, now... was that so hard?_

*** 

Two and a half hours later, Peter and Ben were listening in on a city council meeting. The councilmen were plodding their way through discussions of reports of mutant activity in Manhattan. Supposedly, it was on the rise. This was no surprise to Peter... many members of the millennial generation had genes that were undergoing hyperaccelerated evolution. To scientists, it was a natural occurrence... to a couple of these councilmen, it was an abomination. 

Ben leaned next to Peter and whispered in his ear. "It's not as if the mutants have a choice, one way or the other..." 

Peter really couldn't help but agree. After all, he himself was a mutant. Perhaps he hadn't been born with his abilities, as had the mutants currently being debated, but he still had been a victim of random chance, as they had... he had extraordinary abilities, as they did... and he was feared and hated for what he was, as they were. 

It wasn't a comforting thought, and he suddenly found himself wondering if there were other mutants sitting around the room... outcast from their human brothers, now sitting in the midst of the most powerful men in the city. 

_If a mutant were to make a point, there's no better place than these council chambers..._

Peter shuddered. 

"...and I, for one, say that new facilities should be made to hold the offenders!" Councilman Daniels was declaring. His brown hair whipped about his head, his pudgy face red from the exertion of talking. 

"There is little point to such an action," said Councilman Farrand, an older gentleman with a salt-and-pepper beard. "Building a new facility would take months, and in the meantime the mutants would simply take that to mean that they would eventually all be hunted down like wild animals and made to stay within the facility. A new prison would only ensure that they act against us. It would be as if we were forcing their hand, not the other way around." 

Councilman Randall, a middle-aged, balding man with a bristly mustache, interrupted. "Even if we were to build such a facility, it would require us to make accommodations for every mutation documented. What of a mutant that can walk right through solid walls? How would we contain such an individual? And what of those that can use their powers to simply blast their way out? Such a containment facility would be impossible to build." 

"And unnecessary, in any case," said Councilwoman Zamis, a short, olive-skinned woman with black hair. "After all, a majority of the mutants here have not caused us any trouble. Those that have caused trouble have been contained effectively." 

Peter sighed as he took photos. _At least some people sympathize..._

Faintly, ever so faintly, his spider-sense tickled him behind the eyes. 

He frowned and slowly turned his head to the right, and then to the left. _What danger?_

Peter searched the crowd for nearly a minute, but there was nothing to indicate anything dangerous was about to happen. Ben noticed Peter's attention having deviated from the council meeting and discreetly nudged him in the elbow. "Peter, that's got to be one massive crick." 

_Crunch!_

"Ooh! Ow!" Peter muttered, reaching one hand behind his head instinctively. There _had_ been a crick in his neck. The cracking sensation had shot all the way through one side of his tongue, where his nerves now throbbed painfully. 

Ben chuckled. "You might as well be falling asleep, for all the attention you're paying." 

Peter scoffed. "Hey, you wanted pictures, I've got pictures. A whole roll, which is more than some of these blowhards deserve." 

Ben nodded silently and turned his attention back to the meeting. 

Peter continued to look for the reason his spider-sense was going off. _What's going on here?_

He looked over his right shoulder once more, and this time he spotted an old, gentlemanly-looking figure in a black trenchcoat and matching wide-brim hat. His steely eyes were beholding the council with an interest somewhat akin to that of someone taking interest in an ant hill. 

Peter frowned just slightly. _I wonder who he is..._

The man watched the council for another few moments, and then adopted a look of something like disappointment before turning on one heel and exiting the chambers. 

The spider-sense let up. 

Peter's frown deepened. _What was all that about?_

He turned back around and stared at the council members as they continued to bicker. 

But his mind was no longer on them.

-------

_Ooh, what'll happen next? Review, please!_


	3. Chapter 3

_A/N: Glad to see that I'm keeping true to character for Peter/Spider-Man. Enjoy!_

-------

After an incredibly boring day of snapping photos of the mayor and other assorted political figures passing through New York, Peter retired to his apartment at 5:30, threw his costume in the washing machine, and promptly hit the sack. 

_Having a job and being a super-hero at the same time... it's pretty tiresome. I should do this more often. If only all those bad guys would let me..._

His alarm awakened him at 8:30 that evening. It was hard for him to wake up at first, but eventually he got up, stumbled into the kitchen, and made himself a turkey sandwich. He consumed it quickly, then made himself a peanut butter sandwich to supplement it. He downed the makeshift supper with a huge glass of milk. 

_Boy, if I ate like this all the time, I wouldn't need to worry about the Visa..._

He took his costume out of the washer, which by now had completed its cycle, and tossed it unceremoniously into the dryer, making sure to throw in an anti-static sheet. He then marched back out to the living room, slumped into his favorite chair, and palmed the remote, activating his TV and VCR. He'd set the VCR this morning to record CSPAN -- something one might normally avoid watching, but today in Congress there had been a session during which the aptly named "Mutant Situation" had been discussed, somewhat similar to what the councilmen had been discussing. This, however, was on a larger level, considering the restrictive Mutant Registration Act that was in debate. Senator Robert Kelly was still arguing vehemently that the Act be passed, claiming that all mutants posed a serious threat to society. 

Of course, Peter wasn't in agreement at all. Sure, some mutants wrought havoc from time to time, but many of them were simply trying to make a living for themselves. Comparatively, only a very small fraction of Kelly's inflated figures ever intended harm. Some of Peter's closest friends were mutants, from the Black Cat to the world-renowned Professor Charles Xavier and his X-Men. 

Well... his relationship with the X-Men was iffy for the moment; Peter doubted if he and Wolverine would ever develop a rapport. 

Then again, Wolverine maintained a rapport only with a select few. 

And then there was the case with the Fantastic Four, who had also suffered mutation from the high-energy cosmic rays. Strange how they had been so easily accepted into society, yet the X-Men were still considered wild cards. 

_Maybe it's just Wolverine._

Peter chuckled at the thought as he watched the proceedings take place. Boring for the most part, even Kelly's loudmouthing. Half the Senate seemed content to filibuster, in which case the Act might die upon the commencement of the next Congressional meet. He decided to switch it off. 

As he hit the power button for the VCR, however, the TV remained active just long enough for Peter to glimpse a special report taking place. He left the TV on and beheld images of devastation; a picture of a building with one side blasted inward was splashed across the screen. The back of a car was sticking out of the second floor... upside-down. It was as if some great force had hurled the car into the wall. 

"--suspected to be another mutant attack, taking place at the anti-mutant gathering on 26th Street and 63rd Avenue. Again, this is a breaking story, and the perpetrator is believed to still be in the area..." 

Twenty seconds later, Peter was nowhere to be found, and the window, while closed, was unlocked. 

*** 

The loud leader of the anti-mutant march, David Ferguson, was a charismatic sort, relying on his charm to get him out of any situation, and to gather a following numbering in the dozens, even hundreds. His voice was a paradox in itself... able to speak as loudly as he chose and still able to attract people, despite the noise pollution. He'd always been pleased with himself for this little ability... he'd attracted many a follower for this rally. 

"Senator Kelly is right! We need to contain the mutants _now_! We don't want those freaks here! We have to get rid of them, and his plan is the best way! So get out your shovels and start digging those internment camps for him! Do it to get rid of that menace we call mutantkind!" he had shouted, a bullhorn amplifying his voice across a block in every direction. 

The crowd had subsequently roared in approval of his rantings, many hefting anti-mutant signs and others bearing crude weapons. He wouldn't have been at all surprised if he'd had some gang members in with the crowd. So much the better. Humankind could finally unite for something. 

But his charisma was doing him no good now. His following had long abandoned him. And why shouldn't it? Unless cars go flying into buildings every day. 

Now he cowered in fear behind the podium as some unseen creature roared the deep bass of a lion on the prowl... or maybe the wrath of God Himself. 

And then he found himself hanging three feet off the ground by his jacket. 

He stared down at the offender. 

If there was any way the DNA of a lion and a human could be crossed, this was the perfect specimen. Long, pale gold mane cascaded from his head, his sideburns stretched to his collar, his bared teeth looked as if they belonged in the mouth of a saber-toothed tiger, and his ripped, bulging brown clothes did little to hide the immense musculature beneath them. 

The creature brought David down a little bit, pulled him almost into his face, let David smell his foul breath. 

And he grinned. 

"Scream... for me." 

And David began to scream. 

Sabretooth grinned. He liked the feel of vibrating vocal cords between his teeth. 

He brought David's neck in for the kill. 

And then he smelled it. 

A split-second later, his ears confirmed what his nose was telling him. 

"Hey, ugly!" 

Sabretooth spun around and looked up to the top of the building behind him, sure of what he would find there. 

He wasn't disappointed. The reds and blues of Spider-Man's costume stood out in the night; not good for stealth. 

Spider-Man took to a line of web and swung down to meet Sabretooth on the ground. 

Sabretooth's grin widened, and he tossed David Ferguson away like a rag doll. 

Spider-Man landed and crouched, staring at Sabretooth. "So, where do you fit in on the food chain?" 

Sabretooth almost responded with a snide remark of his own, but he abruptly realized that this would allow for an opportunity for anthropomorphization... and most animals never fought and killed their own kind without good reason. Besides, it didn't make sense to him. Why talk to your meal before eating it? That made it even less appetizing. 

He bounded for Spider-Man. 

Spider-Man ducked under Sabretooth's outstretched arms intended for a bear hug, and swung his leg out. Sabretooth went tumbling. 

"If you're that hungry, you might as well eat dirt," Spider-Man responded. "You start eating people and you might find you have some stiff competition in San Francisco." 

Sabretooth roared and leapt high, meaning to pounce on his prey. 

Spider-Man pushed off to the side and then fired both web-shooters at his opponent. The sticky substance caught Sabretooth's clothes, and Spider-Man tried to yank Sabretooth in for closer combat. 

Sabretooth flashed his razor-sharp claws and sliced through the webbing. 

Spider-Man leapt high, copying Sabretooth's move, and came down with one foot extended for a paralyzing drop kick. Sabretooth caught the foot and looked about ready to twist it straight off Spider-Man's leg. However, the decoratively garbed hero wasn't content to let that happen. He landed on his other foot, only to launch off it again and spin around. His toes made sharp contact with Sabretooth's face, and the beastly mutant roared and released Spider-Man's foot. 

Spider-Man dropped to the ground, but he didn't stay idle. He performed a sidewise breakdance and kiicked at Sabretooth's feet, intent on sweeping them out from under the mutant, but Sabretooth saw it coming and jumped away. He jumped up again and sprawled himself out in the air for a vicious body slam. 

Spider-Man just barely rolled away in time, and he quickly kickflipped to his feet. 

Sabretooth roared and started slashing at Spider-Man with his massive, razor-sharp claws, and Spider-Man performed one handspring after another, just barely staying out of the bestial antagonist's range. 

Sabretooth tackled the wall crawler and pinned his arms to the ground. Spider-Man quickly lashed a leg upwards, almost at an impossible angle, and his heel cracked against Sabretooth's knee. The lion-like mutant roared and stumbled away, while Spider-Man got to his feet and jumped into a defensive pose. 

Sabretooth seemed to shrug off his injury and growled, slowly circling to the left. Spider-Man likewise circled, careful to keep at least three yards' distance from his enemy. 

"Eating them will only prove to them that they were right all along about you," Spider-Man said. "Is that what you want?" 

Sabretooth roared again and leapt at Spider-Man. Spider-Man somersaulted out of the way and maintained the distance between them. The mutant's roar changed to a frenzied pitch as he chased Spider-Man across a large circle on the pavement. As he leapt toward the masked hero, he swung a hand out and slammed it into Spider-Man's chest. 

"Oof!" the hero grunted, flailing in the air for a split instant. Recovering quickly, he fired a webline perpendicular to his current trajectory to correct for the backlash, and swung out of the way of any more harm. 

The frustration was evident on Sabretooth's face as he searched for a way to pin his quarry down. 

"Ever played cat-and-spider?" Spider-Man asked, firing another line of web at a nearby building and pushing off. "Same as cat-and-mouse." 

Sabretooth didn't comment as he leapt after Spider-Man, leaving behind a very indignant David Ferguson to ponder what had just happened. 

*** 

Spider-Man wondered to himself what the hell he was doing, running away. That would give Sabretooth the advantage, a prospect that disturbed him. 

He landed hard on the roof of an apartment building, rolled, came up, and started moving at a dead run. He began formulating a plan very quickly as he heard his predator hit the roof behind him. 

The two figures leapt from building to building effortlessly, neither one slowing, both timing their movements precisely for maximum distance. 

Spider-Man discreetly pulled a web capsule from his belt and gripped it firmly between thumb and forefinger. 

He made the next leap... 

And fell between the buildings. 

As he fell, he crushed the web capsule, releasing the incredibly pressurized, incredibly sticky substances stored within it. The webbing expanded across all sides, creating an almost instant spider web spanning the two buildings at an altitude of nearly fifty feet. 

Spider-Man then shot a web line to the left wall, swinging on it until he hit the wall. The miniature adhesive hooks in his extremities proved themselves useful once again as he clung to the wall. 

Sabretooth leapt into the trap an instant later. 

Spider-Man grinned underneath his mask as he watched Sabretooth futilely try to free himself from the trap. "You know, I just hate it when people try to get the drop on me." 

Sabretooth roared in response. 

Spider-Man scaled the rest of the building, making sure to go around the web trap, and climbed back onto the roof. From there, he covered Sabretooth with a wide spray of webbing, securing the trap. He hit Sabretooth's hands and arms with extra, rendering them immobile and powerless to rip the web. 

"I think there're some boys in blue who'd like to talk to you," Spider-Man commented. "Think I'll go give them a call." 

He was gone a moment later. 

*** 

Sabretooth knew that Spider-Man would make good on his promise, unless the short one got here real soon... 

As if on cue, Shorty's scent crossed Sabretooth's nose. As always, the odor was fetid... a scent like that was known to attract flies, and had done so on previous occasion. 

Shorty leapt up to the top of the building, almost exactly where Spider-Man had been standing moments before. He grinned down at Sabretooth. "Well, now. This is quite a bind, isn't it?" 

Sabretooth roared. 

Shorty sighed. "All right, all right, no social talk." He pulled out a knife and jumped down from the building. He let the knife slice through the webbing, just enough for Sabretooth to get one of his hands free. Sabretooth did the rest, grunting and roaring in frustration as he did so. 

"Let's get going before those geeks see us," Shorty hissed, leading the way with his powerful leaping. 

Sabretooth followed a split instant afterward. 

When the police arrived, they found no one. Only a gigantic, torn spider web. 

-------

_Please review!_


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: I'm taking creative liberties on the spider-sense because I really have no idea how it really works. I remember something in the movie said about "pre-cognition", but since there's bound to be danger in this story anyway... *shrug* Enjoy!_

-------

An elated Spider-Man swung through the skies of busy, nighttime Manhattan. _Only one battle tonight, and another super-villain is off the streets._

_Although, _he considered, _that battle was surprisingly short. I expected more cunning out of him; he seemed to be on par with Wolverine when it comes to animal instinct and savagery. Then again, who am I to complain? I beat him fair and square_.

_But it still felt too easy._

Spider-Man mentally shrugged and continued his patrol. For about fifteen minutes, there was nothing very eventful, other than having to replace his web cartridges... but that was of little consequence, since he had plenty of cartridges to spare in his belt. 

The sky was quite beautiful this evening. There were clouds, yes, and those were what was making the city so blasted hot these days... but every once in a while, those clouds would break up and show a full moon hanging over them. 

He headed for one of the business districts, intent on finding out the latest news. Upon arrival, he found himself a comfortable perch on a high ledge and spied the massive news screens and tickers. One rather frazzled-looking female reporter was running off lines of text from a piece of paper that had just now been handed to her. 

"...and I have just been informed that Spider-Man's alleged apprehension of the disrupting party at the anti-mutant rally is a false report. Police forces claim they can find no trace of the offender, yet from the information they obtained from Spider-Man, it was apparently where the offender _was_ being held. The police have only found fragments of Spider-Man's characteristic webbing..." 

Spider-Man frowned. _Impossible! I webbed him up too thoroughly! Maybe he had help...?_

He sighed and took to his patrol again. He'd have to think on it a while... and be doubly careful to spot the creature he had fought.

***

"Ah. You engaged him, I see."

Sabretooth growled at him.

"I take that to mean a yes." He reached up to his ear and tapped the communicator inserted there.

"Mystique, Toad, is he in sight?"

"He's hard to keep up with," Mystique complained.

"Speak for yourself; I can keep up real easy," Toad retorted. "Some of us prefer to put our tongues to use other than licking--"

"I think that's sufficient information, Toad," he interrupted. "Where is he?"

"Headed for Long Island. Maybe he wants some time to himself."

"And I wouldn't blame him. I imagine he's having a very trying evening." He smiled slightly, but the smile quickly disappeared. "Do not waste time. Join Toad on Long Island. I will be there shortly." He turned to Sabretooth. "You stay here. You've earned your keep, and a rest."

Sabretooth stared at him.

***

Spider-Man stood atop Lady Liberty's head, thinking it a classic Titanic moment; he had a near-irresistible urge to spread his arms wide and shout, "Whoo! I'm king of the spiders!"

Fortunately, he restrained the urge.

"Never know who's up here," he murmured, more to himself than anyone else.

And then, surprisingly, he received a response.

"Indeed."

Spider-Man whipped around, web-shooters ready to release their irritating contents...

Hovering in the air, seemingly without any support mechanism, was an elderly gentleman wearing what appeared to be an insanely comfortable black three-piece suit with a dark shirt underneath. It blended almost perfectly with the night; though Spider-Man's reflective-surfacing lenses, it looked nearly impossible to make out. 

He thought he recognized him as the gentlemanly figure he'd seen at the council meeting earlier that day.

He frowned. "Who are you?"

The gentleman gave a melodramatic bow. "I am Erik Lehnsherr, at your service, Spider-Man. I am a mutant, and I wish nothing but good intentions for you."

_He's probably right. Otherwise he would have gotten my spider-sense going. Anyway, he seems genuine. But how's he doing that? _Spider-Man asked as much, allowing his guard to relax a hair.

Lehnsherr seemed to read the hero's thoughts. "This is one of my gifts." He smiled thinly. "Although at this point, if I could, I would exchange it for such agility as yours."

"You've come a long way to compliment me, Lehnsherr," Spider-Man responded. "And while I do appreciate my adoring fans, I'm not the type to give out autographs."

"And I do not seek one."

Spider-Man's eyes narrowed behind his mask. "Then what is it you want?"

"Your attention."

"You've got it."

"Very well, then." Lehnsherr alighted near Spider-Man, but gave him a respectful distance. "As you are aware, the subject of mutants has become extremely controversial in recent history, both here in New York and worldwide. One of the most ardent proponents of mutant persecution is Senator Robert Kelly. I assume you know of him."

"What American doesn't? The man can walk through Harlem untouched, for God's sake."

Lehnsherr smiled again. "You sound rather persecuted yourself, if I may say so."

Spider-Man rubbed his head. "Sorry. I've just had a rough night. My ribs are still aching." He shook his head. "Anyway, we were talking about Senator Kelly."

"Very well. Recently, he has brought to Congress's attention his Mutant Registration Act, which would force all mutants in America to reveal themselves to the public, where they might face further persecution, brutal assault, and even murder... all because their attackers do not understand mutants."

Spider-Man could see where Lehnsherr was coming from. He frowned. "I sympathize with you in your dilemma... but what does this have to do with me?"

"You are a mutant too, are you not? You would be forced to reveal yourself for who you are.

Your identity would be exposed and your fan base would turn into a lynch mob."

"I doubt that," Spider-Man muttered.

"No? I read the newspaper, Spider-Man, and I know how much public opinion can be swayed by a single word. The _Daily Bugle_ has your picture on it every day, and whenever your picture is there, showing you proudly and staunchly defending those you love, there is a headline that does you no justice."

_No thanks to Jameson, _Spider-Man thought. He nodded. "Okay, point for you. But I still have a hard time believing that the public would be turned so quickly and harshly, even from the power of your 'single word'."

"I'm afraid I don't know your age, Spider-Man, but judging from your voice, I would say that I have at least two decades of experience more than you. I've seen such things happen, even as improbable they may seem."

Spider-Man was growing impatient. He was also becoming uncomfortable, and extremely so; this man was hitting the nail on the head, and they both knew it. "And what, precisely, would you have me do about it?"

"Listen to my offer." 

Spider-Man cocked his head. "Offer?" 

"I propose a partnership in nobility."

Spider-Man shook his head. "I can't allow you or any other innocent people to get hurt."

Lehnsherr adopted a fatherly expression. He gestured toward one of the spokes on Lady Liberty's crown.

The spoke obediently bent upward at a 90 degree angle. A few moments later, it restored itself to its original position.

Lehnsherr turned back to Spider-Man. "I would be more worried about the attackers than me. Also, believe it or not, I do have influence. I can help you reduce your encounters with barbaric gang members and their guns, or purse snatchers and their cowardice."

"And if you were to help me, what would you ask for in return?"

Lehnsherr smiled faintly. "You deduced a give-and-take relationship from the beginning. Very good. I would ask you to consider membership in my Brotherhood of Mutants." 

"Brotherhood of Mutants?" 

"The title is simple enough, I believe. We are a band of mutants, dedicated to making our cause one that cannot be ignored. We protect our own. If you were to join my Brotherhood, your ability to influence public opinion might increase, no matter what the newspapers might say." 

Spider-Man scoffed. "I think there's really only one newspaper that chooses to bash me." 

"One is one too many these days, Spider-Man. This is the information age. If the information is tainted, people become biased. Biases lead to anger, to hate, to pain. But returning to the subject at hand, I offer you a chance to join your brothers in our noble cause of mutant protection."

The spider-sense buzzed faintly at this; Lehnsherr was not revealing his whole story.

But Spider-Man had no idea what the story might be, so he couldn't find a basis for the spider-sense. It was only instinct, after all.

Still, it wouldn't be going off unless something about this was wrong.

Spider-Man's eyes turned to slits underneath his mask, as if they were looking for physical evidence to indicate something amiss. "Why invite me? Do you believe I have anything special to contribute to your group? I'm not exactly one who fits in with a team."

"You've not been given the chance that many times, if my information is accurate. You are only a reserve member of the Avengers, and you've not even been so much as invited to join the X-Men's circle. You attempted joining the Fantastic Four, but they wouldn't have you, either. How can you claim to know your abilities and disabilities if no one will provide the chance?" 

Spider-Man's eyes narrowed further. "I suppose there's some truth to that... but I've found comfort in operating alone." 

"And you might find more comfort in teamwork. The risk for injury is lessened considerably when you have allies at your side." 

The red-and-blue garbed man sighed and nodded. "True enough. Anything else?" 

"Not yet. We must first trust each other."

"Then don't pop up on me like that. I'm high-strung already; I don't need you adding to it."

Lehnsherr raised an eyebrow. "And as for my offer?"

"Let me think on it."

Lehnsherr nodded, then stepped into empty space and floated off.

Spider-Man stared after him. _How does he do that?_

He shook his head. _Doesn't matter. I'm gonna have to find a new hiding place._

He leapt off Lady Liberty and made his way back to Manhattan.

***

"That didn't go as well as I'd hoped," said Mystique.

"Patience, Mystique. He needs time. Stay with him, and follow him until he returns to his home. He's liable to be tired after he's finished tonight. Perhaps he won't sense you. Besides, you're only curious. You pose no threat to him in any way. It worked for us this time."

"Right."

"Toad, how's work progressing?"

"There could be a bit of a delay. No more than an extension of a couple of days."

"Toad..."

"Look, I'm doing the best I can. I don't see you working on it and sweating your ass off, and trust me, with these materials, you would be. This close, and without the isotope properly refined, it could kill us."

"I'm the recruiter. I let you in when no one else would. Never forget that."

"I never have. And don't you forget that you need me as the mechanic for this thing."

"I haven't."

"Then let's get back to base so I can work."

Three seconds later, there was nothing there. 

*** 

Spider-Man sighed as he swung in through the bedroom window. His mind was whirling with possibilities. _Maybe Lehnsherr just wants me for my abilities. Maybe this Brotherhood of his is totally submissive. Maybe they freed that lion-mutant, whoever he was._

_Maybe there _is_ no Brotherhood, and I'm just the first of several people he's asked to join._

_Maybe there is a Brotherhood, but they have different ideas that the one Lehnsherr claims to adhere to._

_Maybe it's another superhero organization._

_Maybe I could call it home._

He pulled his mask off and threw it on the floor. _Too many maybes._

He looked wistfully at the cold, empty bed. _MJ... I really wish you were here right now... I need you. There's no one else I can talk to about this..._

He closed his eyes and sat down on the bed, not bothering to remove the rest of his costume for a few moments. He folded his hands and rested his elbows on his knees, trying to organize his thoughts. 

It hit him with the force of a bullet, and his eyes snapped open. _Wait a minute... there _is_ someone else I can talk to...!_

He grabbed the phone and dialed in a number he'd memorized since the day she'd given it to him. He expected a pickup on the second ring, as she had always done for him whenever his number appeared on her caller ID'er... but several rings went by without any response. 

He sighed in frustration and moved to hang up, when suddenly he heard a _click_ on the other end. He pressed the receiver against his ear again, suddenly hopeful. "Felicia?" 

"No, Peter... it's me." 

Peter frowned. "Ms. Hardy? I'm sorry, did I wake you?" 

"Actually, you did. My boy, you live during ungodly hours... wait, you were looking for Felicia?" 

"Um, yes. She's not there?" 

Her tone sounded incredulous. "I thought she would have told you. She went out on some sort of personal business. Just left this morning. She hasn't been back since." 

"When do you expect her to return, then?" 

"No idea." She offered him a slight chuckle. "I'm less restrictive than I used to be, my boy... and besides, her nature calls for it. She'll get back when she does. I hope it's not as urgent as the late hour might suggest." 

Peter sighed dejectedly. "No... not really that urgent..." 

She apparently caught the sigh. "I'll have her call you first thing when she gets back." 

"Thanks. Sorry for waking you." 

"Not a problem. Take care." 

"You, too." 

Peter hung up and slumped his shoulders. _No MJ, no Felicia... it all falls to me, really._

_So what do I do?_

-------

_Indeed, what will he do? Please review! (Hey, that rhymes.)_


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Having some problems with at-home Internet access as of late, so I'm uploading on campus. Hope you continue to enjoy!_

-------

The next morning, thereabouts of 9:15, Peter Parker awoke to the blazing sunlight pouring through the white blinds over his window. He stretched, yawned, and scratched his chest. He felt sore all over... _Then again, what can you expect?_

He stumbled into the shower and performed his usual routine: first turning the water flow to extreme cold to wake himself up, then extreme hot to get the kinks out of his body. Half his body felt like a mass of bruises, but that was hardly he case... only a third of his body had manifested any sign of injury. 

He sighed and stepped out, drying himself off and thinking all the while about Lehnsherr's offer. _Who is this guy? He really wants me to join his group, but why? He couldn't have told me everything._

He marched into the darkroom and hauled out the jugs of various chemicals required for the development of the pictures he had gotten last night. He hoped there were some good ones this time around; the last batch had been a bit blurry. He'd spent a pretty penny buying more advanced film. _Please, God, let Kodak get me a decent payment. Otherwise I'm going to put an ax through the TV next time I see a Kodak commercial._

Peter hated waiting in hope that the photos would turn out fine, but it was impossible to see how they were developing, as dark as the room was, save for the red light that perpetually made his eyes sting. He squinted into the pans carrying the chemicals and film regardless, hoping for the best. 

All in all, it took a long while for him to develop the pictures. Not all of them were great, but a select few had indeed made the cut. _Thank God for Kodak._

But even as he developed the film and put the printing stock to use, he couldn't help but let his mind linger on Lehnsherr. _Who is he? What does he want?_

He finished his printing and slipped his chosen prints into a portfolio. He left the darkroom, picked up his camera, keys, and wallet, and headed out. 

_Maybe I should find out._

*** 

Fortunately, the editor of the day, Kate Cushing, was waiting for him. Or rather, he was waiting on her, standing in front of the air conditioning unit just inside her office door. His fingers tingled a bit as she flipped through the photos, various degrees of interest evident in her face. 

"Hmm. It's Spider-Man's usual, I see. Nothing interesting happen? No super-villains?" she asked. 

"Not by the time I got to the party. I really hated the council meeting, so I didn't really figure on shooting the rally. Maybe I should have," Peter responded. His leg cramped slightly, and he winced. "Oh, well. At least none of the old ones have to grace the pages." 

Kate snickered. "Maybe the prison specialists are doing their job, after all." 

"One can only hope." 

She looked up at him. "You go out pretty late to do these. Why the hassle? Can't take normal pictures?" 

He smiled, knowing that she was teasing him. "What can I say? I have to keep up my reputation as Spider-Man's personal paparazzi." 

"Sounds like a specialty pizza at a local parlor," Kate muttered, eliciting a snort from Peter. "Tell you what. This stuff is looking better than the last. Might not be front title or anything, unless Jonah wants it that way, but it's newsworthy nonetheless. Here." 

She filled out a voucher, and handed it to Peter. He took it and read the triple-digit figure. He glanced up in surprise and appreciation. "Thanks a lot. This should help me get some sleep." 

"Glad to hear," she responded. She pointed a scolding finger at him. "You're enthusiastic, Parker, but be careful about what you're doing out there. Don't want you getting hurt." 

"Yes, Mother," he responded, grinning wryly. _If you only knew..._

He left the office and looked around for a few moments. _Now to check up on Lehnsherr. Maybe if I check the morgue..._

Peter took the elevator to the Daily Bugle's second floor, where their aptly named "morgue" was housed. Records of earlier editions were kept on linked computer terminals there, and perhaps might provide some clue as to who this guy was. The media was notorious about invading people's privacy. 

He sat down at one of the terminals and tapped a few buttons. Bob the computer geek made his way over to Peter. "Something I can do for you?" 

"Just need to search the archives," Peter responded. "I've forgotten how to do this." 

Bob shook his head. "My man, there is no hope for you and your kind." He grabbed a photocopied and stapled bunch of paper from another desk and practically tossed it into Peter's lap. "Here's the idiot's guide. Read it over once in a while. People like you will be the death of me, I swear to God." 

Something speared through Peter's mind for a split instant upon hearing the phrases "your kind" and "people like you". He wasn't exactly sure why, but it wasn't pleasant. 

_Is Lehnsherr really having that much effect on me? I know Bob wasn't talking about mutants... but..._

_God, I really have to lighten up._

Though he didn't actually feel all that giddy or amused, Peter chuckled, then consulted the guide and searched for LEHNSHERR. 

_Let's see who the man behind the charm is._

*** 

The brightly garbed figure was swinging very quickly, very intensely, and very dangerously this evening. Cab drivers and their startled passengers caught glimpses of a red-and-blue blur sweeping between cars on the streets, but any impression beyond that was lost. When they finally had the nerve to look out the windshield again, the figure was already three blocks further along. 

The typical response was a muttered curse and a more careful eye on things beyond the street. 

Spider-Man soared higher than he had in a long time... he couldn't remember the last time he felt so alive, swinging from building to building more dynamically than he had ever swung before. 

He knew exactly what he was going to say to Lehnsherr. Now it only fell to him to go to the Statue of Liberty and hand it to him on a silver platter. 

And then shouted a female voice. "Hey! Stop! Somebody help!" 

_But first..._

Spider-Man had just soared over an alleyway; that was where the cry had come from. He immediately cut his line and fired one in the opposite direction at the apex of his high climb. The line fastened securely against a nearby office building, and the immediate tension on the line served to both stabilize him and give him enough return momentum to make it back to the alley in minimal time. 

He dropped down low enough that when he reached the crack between the buildingsa, he landed hard against one of the walls. Without even thinking about what he was doing, he started releasing sprays of webbing upon the attackers -- three of them -- and took a split-instant to enjoy the satisfaction of seeing them realize what was happening. 

The attackers looked up. 

They were teenage boys armed with bricks and pipes. 

Spider-Man's eyes narrowed, and he jumped down to face one of them. 

Spider-sense -- 

He twisted around and grabbed the pipe in mid-swing, then delivered a blow to the boy's gut. The boy doubled over and gasped for breath. 

His spider-sense went off again -- 

He grabbed the second boy by the shirt and tossed him bodily down the alley. He slammed into a Dumpster, slid down, and groaned. 

Spider-Man turned back to the boy he'd been facing before. "_Et tu, Brute_?" 

The boy dropped his weapons and tried to run off. Spider-Man shot a webline at his ankle and tripped him... the boy fell face first to the cracked pavement. 

He turned to the source of the cry for help, huddled in the corner where the boys had shoved her. 

It was a girl of no more than sixteen years. Her face was dirty and streaked with tears. Her long black hair was ruffled, and her clothes were less than indicative of whatever reputation she might have had. 

Spider-Man extended a hand to her. "It's okay... I'm not going to hurt you." 

A shaking extremity reached out and took his. 

Spider-Man spied the hand. 

It was tri-digital. 

His brow knitted under his mask. "Are you all right?" 

She released a shuddering sigh and nodded. "Yes. Thank you. You're a true brother." 

She got to her feet. She wore a long brown trenchcoat, bulky enough that any other features were impossible to make out. Spider-Man wasn't even sure if he wanted to know... but simply hearing her call him a "brother" told him everything he really needed to know. 

She was a mutant. 

He reached out and gave her an affectionate pat on the shoulder. "It's not safe here. You should go." 

"I don't have anywhere else to go..." 

Spider-Man heard a suddenly scrabbling of extremities across the pavement. His head snapped to the left, and he saw that the boy whom he's tripped was trying to get to his feet and run off. He reached out and fired a line of web at the boy's back, pulling him back to the ground. The boy landed ignoiniously on his butt, and Spider-Man dragged him close. 

The hero picked the boy up by his shirt front. "Why? Why did you do this?!" 

"B-Because s-she's a freak!" the boy screeched. "We don't want her here!" 

Spider-Man's teeth ground under his mask, and the noise was almost audible. He lifted the boy into the air and shook him. "You better start learning tolerance pretty quick, boy. Because if I _ever_ hear those words come out of you or anyone else even remotely like you again, I'll find you and kick your scrawny ass so hard your _grandmother_ will feel it!" 

He threw the boy down to the pavement, and he made one menacing step in his direction. "Now _get out of here_!" 

The boy screeched again, this time incoherently, and scrambled to get to his feet as fast as possible and run as fast as his feet would take him. 

Spider-Man turned to look at the girl... 

But she was already gone. 

He closed his eyes and shuddered. 

_What's happening to me? I always have something smart to come back with... I don't make threats like that... not like some villain I'm always fighting. Why am I becoming like this?_

He leaped out of the alley and fired a webline towards another building. _I have to get away from here real quick and give Lehnsherr my answer..._

"Spider!" 

He frowned. _Was that... Black Cat...?_ He looked over his shoulder and saw a lithe figure, garbed in black, with platinum blond hair flowing out from her head like a miniature curtain, swinging on a nearly impossibly long whip, trying to catch up with him. 

_I thought she was out on personal business... unless she was checking up on something as the Cat..._

He alighted on a rooftop and stopped there. She caught up with him a moment later, landing directly in front of him. 

"Hey, Cat... where have you been?" he asked. 

"Had to track down a drug ring that moved to New Jersey," she answered. "It's busted now, so I'm back." She wore a look of mild concern. "I saw a little bit of what happened in that alley." 

Spider-Man shook his head. "I don't know what got into me. I'm not like that at all, really... you know that." 

"Yes, I do." She stepped closer. "But I think you meant well for that little girl. You were trying to protect her." 

"I was doing more than that. I was taking those boys' intolerance of mutants way too far... now I'm starting to experience the discrimination on a much more personal level." He shook his head again. "I don't know why I'm taking offense on mutantkind's behalf..." 

"It's because, like it or not, you're a mutant, too," she answered. "Of course you'd take offense." 

"But I never did before, or not to that extent." 

"Maybe it's good that you have now. It makes Lehnsherr's cause all the more important." 

Spider-Man frowned. "Lehnsherr? You know about him?" 

"Of course I do. He asked me to join his Brotherhood of Mutants, same as he asked you." 

"And you _accepted_?" 

"Of course. I'm a mutant, too, you know." She cocked her head and smiled. "What... is there something wrong with this image?" 

"There's _everything_ wrong about this image!" Spider-Man flailed his arms about. "Don't you know who he is? What he tried to do? He's Magneto, the self-proclaimed Master of Magnetism! It was him and his Brotherhood that tried to _assassinate_ Robert Kelly!" 

"I know," she answered in a soothing voice. "Trust me, I know. But he's a changed man now. All he wants is to protect mutantkind from being wiped out by the callous, unfeeling humans that are in positions of that kind of power." 

"He wants more than that," Spider-Man responded. "He wants a civil war! He wants the mutants to take over the world, and to live out the concept that humanity has of mutantkind! He doesn't believe in peace!" 

"You wouldn't be saying these things if you gave him a chance," she answered, an angry tinge to her voice. 

"What's wrong with you?!" he virtually yelled. "This is _me_ you're talking to! Please, listen to me! Lehnsherr can't be trusted, no matter how much he says he may have changed! He can't be trusted, and neither can his Brotherhood!" 

"I'm part of that Brotherhood now. Does that mean I'm untrustworthy, as well?" 

Spider-Man groaned, exasperated. "It means I don't think you're walking into this with open eyes. Take a close look at him, and what he's done, hand in hand. Do you honestly believe that he's as pacifistic as he once was domineering?" 

She didn't even hesitate. "Yes. I do." 

He reached out a desperate hand and took a step forward. "Felicia..." 

A slight crease formed between her eyes at the mention of her name. She shook her head. "No, Spider... I can't leave him now. Whether you think so or not, his cause is a noble one, and he really is concerned for the welfare of mutants." 

"I won't dispute that. What I _do_ dispute is the manner in which he's trying to handle it." 

"Then become part of the Brotherhood and bring your concerns to him. There's no way you can make him care about your opinions if you don't." 

He shook his head. "I can't do that. As much as I'd like to believe that he's a changed man, as you say, I simply can't believe it. You can tell him that my answer is no... and I hope he gets the picture." 

He turned and leapt off the building, leaving behind the consternated image of Black Cat. 

_-------_

_And what will everyone do about this decision? Find out next time! Meantime, review!_


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: None_

-------

"That was a rather enjoyable exercise." 

"For you, perhaps. I won't do it again." 

"It won't be needed anyway, I think. The message is finally getting across to him. He _is_ a mutant. He _should_ take such matters personally. It affects all of us, as a whole... not just as individuals." 

"No need to spout your platitudes at me. I already know them." 

"Very well. Are you enjoying the show as I am?" 

"I'll enjoy it more when the device is ready and they become even more fearful." 

"Fear is powerful, yes. And then we will be there to help them dispel their fears and build them into the nation they said they'd created in the first place." 

*** 

Peter Parker yawned and groaned as he rolled out of his bed at 8:21 A.M. the next morning. For a few moments, his mind seemed blissfully quiet and clear. 

And then the events of last night, combined with the bruises, hit him like a train. 

He groaned again and tried to pick himself up off the floor. 

_How could Felicia have placed so much trust in Lehnsherr in such a short period of time? Or did he approach her before? She never mentioned anything about it before, though... and considering how much she and I usually communicate, she would have, just to let me know. Which means he did it recently._

_Then again_, he thought, _I almost got sucked into his charm, too. At least I made sure of who I was dealing with... but surely I could expect the same from her, couldn't I? Especially after all that's happened to her._

_So it comes back to square one... why would she put so much faith into a man she really wouldn't know that well?_

He dragged himself off the floor and shuffled across the carpet on his knees, searching for the remote control. _I really should be a better housekeeper... MJ would never have let that thing stray far._ He did find it within a couple of minutes, however... longer than it would have taken him to get to his feet and change the channel manually to the station he wanted. Nevertheless, it was with the remote that he activated the television and set the station: a local news broadcast. He turned the volume up loud and headed into the bathroom, where he performed his usual showering routine. 

As the hot water pelted him, blasting away the bruises and kinks, his ear caught the newscaster say "Spider-Man". He turned off the faucet and stepped out of the bathtub, making sure to wrap a towel around his waist as he did so. He listened carefully. 

"...authorities still have no clue as to the motive for these actions, but Chief Bombay says that a warrant has been issued for Spider-Man's apprehension." 

A voiceover could be heard; it was the deep bass of a male. "'It's plain and simple... eyewitnesses, as well as security cameras, say he was taking items that clearly did not belong to him, and we're looking to return them to their proper owners. We're keeping a close eye on the city until such time that we may find him and take him in for questioning.'" 

Peter frowned. _What did I do this time?_ But the report was already overwith. 

With a panging sense of unease, he stepped into the living room and changed the channel to another one of his preferred newscasts. This time it was a male reporter. "--drastic turn of events took place last night when Spider-Man apparently committed a string of robberies. Jewelry stores across Manhattan found themselves missing a collective amount of over two million dollars. Chief of Police Samuel Bombay issued a statement this morning, declaring that a warrant has been issued to take Spider-Man in, should he appear again." 

The same shot of Bombay appeared as it had with the last report, and Peter almost felt sick to his stomach. _An impostor! Lowest of the low... this sounds like a familiar song... who could it be this time? Mysterio? Some shapeshifter?_

_Shapeshifter..._ Peter's eyes hardened. _I said "no" to Lehnsherr's offer... could he have sent some shapeshifting mutant to discredit me? And if he did, why?_

_There's a wide range of possibilities_, he realized. _Best I not jump to conclusions... but whoever did it has a grudge against me. I'm gonna have to take care of it pretty quickly._

He sighed as he went back into the bathroom and stepped into the bathtub. _I can't do it now, though. If cops are looking for me, daytime is totally out. Besides, I've got a paycheck to think about. And a neck, at the same time._

*** 

Peter walked into the _Bugle_ feeling somewhat like a rooster in a henhouse. _If only all these people knew that an alleged criminal walked in their midst, eh?_ he thought morbidly. _Wonder what Jonah will have to say about all this. Probably mad that I didn't catch Spider-Man in the act._

He tentatively moved across the floor, trying to slip past unnoticed and submit the pictures he'd gotten of himself with the new slave control on his camera. Unfortunately, Kate wasn't in this time around... only that snot-nosed brat of an intern, Carson Roberts. Peter groaned. _Maybe it'd be better if I just turn myself in now... Jonah will be in here in three seconds..._

He grit his teeth and forced himself to walk into the office Carson was occupying. The young man, certainly no more than Peter's age, sporting a tie and bleached, vaguely spiky hair grinned a smile that had no doubt wiled the girls at the high school he must have just graduated from. "Well, hello there, Mr. Parker." 

Peter grunted. "You know you're free to call me Peter. 'Mr. Parker' makes me feel old." 

Carson raised an eyebrow. "Oh? I was under the impression that 'Mr.' was a sign of respect." 

"True. But I might feel more respected, and be more willing to talk to you, if we were to know each other on a mutual first-name basis. Carson." 

Carson smiled, and there was a hint of a grimace in it. "Very well, then, Peter. What have you got for our esteemed paper today?" 

Peter handed Carson the envelope of pictures with a sigh. Carson caught the sigh. "Oh, come now... we don't like negative attitudes around here! Although negatives are certainly a plus," he added, perusing the envelope's contents. He frowned after a few moments. "None of the _real_ grit on Spider-Man? That's a first for you, I think." 

"What, exactly, is that supposed to mean?" Peter asked, crossing his arms. His muscles pulsed underneath his sleeves. 

"I guess you didn't see the news this morning, then." Carson chuckled. 

"I did, as a matter of fact." 

"And you've got no pics of it?" 

"You wanted the real grit, that's about as real as I can make it. I've got nothing on the robberies they're saying he committed." 

Carson snapped his fingers rapidly as he leaned back in his chair. "Come on, Peter... they're saying it for a reason. He was caught in the act by security cameras all over Manhattan. He was really quite sloppy with his work, as is usually the case... hence all the super villains running around, causing havoc. He's no better." 

_What is this? "Bash The Spider" day? Or maybe it's "Mini-Me" day and Carson's paired with Jonah..._ Peter shook his head. "I'm not going to say anything as far as that goes. You've got the pics. Take 'em or leave 'em, I don't really care. It's not my job to tell, only to show." _People like you are only good for raising hot air balloons._

Carson nodded. "All right, all right, no need to get upset. I'll take 'em. These are actually very good quality. New lens?" 

"Something like that." _Be careful in your removal of your lips from my rear end._

"Hnh. All right, then. Gimme a minute, I'll put some food in your fridge." Carson pulled out a voucher slip and filled it out. Peter spied it, noticing that it was only a little more than half of what Kate had given him last time. In truth, it was a decent amount... but Peter was nonetheless somewhat disappointed to see it wasn't more. 

_The trials of being a freelancer..._

As he exited the office, he heard a bit of commotion around one of the nearby TV sets. He also heard a bit of roaring from Jonah's office, but that was about par for the man. 

"Turn it up! Turn it up!" one journalist was crying out. 

"All right, dammit, just gimme a sec," complained the one controlling the set. The volume bar was creeping to the right across the bottom of the screen, and it seemed to be a slow trek, indeed. 

Peter approached the set as the volume got to a level he could actually hear. 

"--have just been informed of a fire at the warehouse complex in the downtown industrial districts, just off 113th Street and 24th Avenue... there appears to be an arsonist _inside_ the complex as we speak, Chuck... one of the foremen has told me that someone is taking a pair of flamethrowers to the most recent shipments of Carbonex foods and the effect has spread to the entire warehouse. There's a tower of smoke that can be seen from across half the city..." 

Peter's eyes grew wide as he watched a warehouse almost totally consumed in flame blazing across the screen. 

"Chuck, it seems the wind is working against the firefighters' attempts, plus this supposed arsonist. I'm told that there are still men trapped within, but it's unclear if they even have a chance of surviving in there. The odds aren't good. Meanwhile, the fire seems to be spreading to another--" 

The on-site newscaster was interrupted by an explosion that blew away a chunk of the warehouse to the northeast of the one currently in flames. The camera view was totally knocked off as the cameraman and the reporter ducked pieces of flying debris. 

Carson stepped up behind Peter. "It seems to me that we'll need some good pictures of that. A hundred fifty extra says you can make it down there and give me some great shots." 

Peter turned on one heel and stared Carson down for a moment. 

He stormed off. 

*** 

He stood atop the _Bugle_ for a few moments, contemplating what he should do. Going down to the dock as Peter Parker would ensure him a little more food, a couple more shirts, and a fixed air conditioner. Yet it would likely sacrifice the lives of any men still trapped within the warehouse, and allow the arsonist to continue whatever bizarre rampage he or she was on. 

Going there as Spider-Man would give those men and the warehouse complex the chance they needed. Yet it would likely attract the attention of the police, who would no doubt try to track him down. He would run the risk of being caught. 

But to save lives, there really was no choice. 

*** 

A blur of red and blue swept above the streets of Manhattan, moving straight toward the warehouse district. 

*** 

Erik Lehnsherr smiled. "And so it begins." 

*** 

_The first thing I need to do_, Spider-Man thought, as he swung ever closer to his target, _is figure out how I'm going to get inside. Maybe find a piece of wood or something and bash my way inside. Can't go in from the top... there ought to be at least three entrances on every side; surely I can find one I can just smash through and get inside fast enough not to be flash-fried..._

He approached the warehouse carefully. There were several emergency vehicles that seemed to surround it on three sides, and more fire engines on the northeast side of the next warehouse, where the fire was spreading to. 

_They left the northeast side of the burning warehouse wide open..._

Spider-Man carefully snuck around to the northeastern side. In the center of that wall, there appeared to be an entrance which did not exactly have a fire roaring both inside and outside it. He frowned. _An open invitation, pretty much. Why did the firefighters not even bother to look here?_

_And what's more, if it's an invitation, why am I accepting it?_

He took a running leap through the flames that stood at the mouth of the doorway. 

The innards of the warehouse were nothing but chaos. Everything seemed to be consumed in fire, blazing orange light and white heat searing him on every level. 

He quickly glanced around, looking for any signs that there might be men still trapped here. However, all appearances indicated that there was no one to be found. 

_An arsonist with a flamethrower did all this? Maybe..._ Spider-Man was feeling decidedly skeptical. For a fire as large scale as this appeared to be, it would have had to have a considerable amount of fuel. And then there was the little matter of the media, which tended to show up on the scene within only a few minutes of the initial spark. For this much devastation to be wrought in so little a time... 

"Well, well, well." 

Spider-Man's head snapped up at the high-pitched male voice, piercing through the crackling fire. 

The man was about Spider-Man's height, and he was even more brightly garbed. He wore a yellow and orange suit, presumably flame retardant, and a thin red mask stretched across his eyes. Thick orange lenses bugged out from the mask, dense enough that his eye color was impossible to determine. He had a mop of light blond hair and a very angular face, from what Spider-Man could see under the mask. He had a medium build, and Spider-Man had no trouble imagining that this pyromaniac probably couldn't stand up to him in down-to-earth fisticuffs. 

However, the man didn't seem like to do that. His hefty, back-mounted load was a double tank containing compressed flamethrower fuel, and a spigot with a hose was attached to the tops of each of his wrists. 

"And whom do I have the distinct dishonor of addressing?" Spider-Man asked, taking a defensive pose and slowly circling to his left. 

"Pyro's the name, and playing with fire is my game," answered the man, following Spider-Man's movements closely. 

"Didn't your mother ever tell you not to play with matches?" 

"Matches? Every day. But she never said anything about flamethrowers!" Pyro cackled, as if he thought his joke was the funniest thing in the world. He stared at Spider-Man for a moment, and his amusement disappeared. "You're not laughing." 

"I'm just wondering why you saw fit to burn the house down." 

The smile returned. "The humans were being bad boys again." 

Spider-Man frowned. "The humans? You're a mutant?" 

"Very good! Get two in a row and you'll win a Clark bar!" 

"Do you work for Lehnsherr?" 

"Damn. I don't have any Clark bars with me." Pyro made a big show of checking nonexistent pockets all over his costume. He looked back up at Spider-Man and shrugged. "Oh, well. I guess that means I'll have to kill the contestant and save myself the trouble." 

He aimed one of his flamethrowers at Spider-Man and fired. 

Spider-Man quickly launched high into the air and affixed himself to the ceiling. He found that to be a mistake, however, since the ceiling -- as with the rest of the supports in the building -- was comprised of metal. He cried out and fell to the floor. 

Pyro _tsk_ed and shook his head as he approached the injured and winded Spider-Man. "Stupid little spider. I suppose you conveniently forgot that metal conducts heat, hmm?" 

Spider-Man quickly scrambled to his feet and leaped away from Pyro as the fiery antagonist unleashed another pair of liquid fire streams. The webslinger jumped high over the self-proclaimed mutant and landed on the other side. 

Spider-Man quickly fired both web-shooters at Pyro. Both struck the center of his back, causing him to stumble forward slightly. Spider-Man wrapped the weblines around his wrists and yanked back as hard as he could. 

Pyro went sailing towards him. Spider-Man ducked and watched at the crazed arsonist crashed into a collection of barrels. 

The blond man didn't even seem so much as winded as he got to his feet. Spider-Man's trusty spider-sense buzzed hard, and he leapt high into the air. A stream of fire scorched the space he'd just vacated. 

"And along came a spider!" Pyro giggled gleefully, spraying flames at Spider-Man. 

Spider-Man attempted to maneuver, looking to distract Pyro from his intended target. He swung quickly around the entire warehouse, using anything and everything for cover and support. He seemed to swing circles around Pyro. 

He then took the opportunity to glance back at the blond man. 

The pyromaniac was now wrapped in a thick column of fire. 

Spider-Man frowned and looked harder. _What's going on?_

His spider-sense jerked him hard to the left, and he moved just in time to avoid a wide, deadly stream of flame. 

Spider-Man fired a line to the center of the warehouse ceiling and swung to the other side. Before Pyro had a chance to track him, he fired a pair of weblines at the arsonist. 

The flame streams suddenly seemed to make an utterly impossible turn in midair and redirect themselves toward the lines of webbing. The web was incinerated before it even had a chance of attaching to him. 

Spider-Man cut off the lines and went back to his strategy of evasion, baffled. _How could the flames have done that? They shouldn't have been able to..._

_Unless..._

At the apex of his next swing, he fired off a web bolt at the brightly garbed blond, but the flame streams he was firing off suddenly made another impossible turn and burned the bolt down to ashes before it got anywhere near its target. 

_That's his ability! Now... what do I do about it?_

"You're only delaying the inevitable, Spider-Man!" Pyro shouted, as the flames continued to roar around them. "You've got two options... either die by my hand or join Magneto's Brotherhood!" 

"And here I thought this was a free country," Spider-Man retorted, as he narrowly dodged a stream of flame. "Why the sudden urgency to get me in with the crowd?" 

"You're a mutant!" Pyro responded. "We shouldn't be fighting each other! It degrades us to what those useless humans have become!" 

"Hey, pal, I wasn't the one who decided that the humans were useless!" Spider-Man landed, only to backflip across the floor as he avoided a rapidly moving stream. 

"You don't get it! They're as useless as flies!" 

"Flies feed spiders feed birds feed us! Or do you not pay attention to the food chain?" 

"No point when I'm at the top!" 

"And you wouldn't be at the top without the bottom!" 

Pyro shouted incoherently and increased the width and breadth of the streams, now turning them into a huge wall of fire. "The itsy bitsy spider..." 

In his concentration, he had lost track of Spider-Man. His head snapped around and around, searching for the webslinger. 

"Down came the rain!" 

Pyro looked upward just in time to see Spider-Man descending on him. More specifically, Spider-Man's fist descending on his nose. 

Pyro hit the floor and cried out, releasing his concentration on the fire wall he'd created. Spider-Man didn't waste time, spraying Pyro's mask with webbing and then using the webbing to seal the mask to his face. 

Pyro stuck out his flamethrowers and blindly fired. Spider-Man dodged them easily, then aprayed webbing at Pyro's arms and caught the hoses for his flamethrowers. He yanked back as hard as he could, and in the process, he jarred the hoses enough that Pyro's supply was cut off. 

Spider-Man leaped straight at Pyro, then, and gave him a knee to the gut. Pyro doubled over, gasping for breath, and nearly hit the ground. Spider-Man held him up by the front of his form-fitting costume. 

"Why torch the warehouse?" he hissed. 

"Because... the food is... poison for mutants," Pyro gasped. "I was... doing us all... a favor!" 

"Poison?" 

"Yes! It attacks... mutants' immune systems... mutants are dying of AIDS-like symptoms!" Pyro groaned at the wall crawler. "And now you're helping the humans destroy us. I hope you're happy." 

Spider-Man glared for a moment, then clasped his hands together, brought them up over his head, and then clubbed the base of Pyro's neck. 

Pyro went down easily. 

Spider-Man picked Pyro up, threw him over his shoulder, and carried him out of the warehouse and to safety. There, he tightly webbed up the arsonist and removed his flamethrowers. 

_I'd best get out of here before the cops find me and decide it's Thanksgiving._

He beat a hasty retreat. 

*** 

Peter Parker arrived on the scene of the fire as the firefighters began to get an advantage over it. He hurriedly started snapping pictures, his long lens capturing the intensity of the blaze the FNY still had to take down if they hoped to save the warehouse. 

He coughed several times. _Smoke inhalation... best not to web-swing strenuously in a burning warehouse._ He squinted his eyes as he stared into the burning wreckage. Part of the building was starting to collapse, and he was grateful that there was no one still inside. 

_Let's hope the blue boys find Spidey's Christmas present soon, though... the webbing dissolves in an hour... and hey, I can get an even better paycheck if they bring him out and I snapshot him. I'll catch all sorts of hell for not getting Spider-Man, but on the other hand, Carson didn't ask me to snapshot _him_..._

Peter smiled inwardly. This might turn out to be a good day, after all. 

_But... Pyro still wanted me to join the Brotherhood, even as we were fighting each other. How very like brothers, one wanting another to be part of the family so much that he'll fight in order to see that it happens. Maybe weird by my standards, but then again, my circumstances weren't quite normal..._

_Lehnsherr would still want me, even after beating his own "son" down? Doubtful._

_Now I won't have to put up with any more babbling about joining. It's all overwith._

_I hope._

-------

_Review please!_


	7. Chapter 7

_A/N: Hey, reviews! Big surprise! I like reviews. They let me know what I should work on and what sounds good._

_Appreciative Reader: Ooh, bad pun. I like it, though!_

_ShadowShock: Nice formatting is always a plus, in my opinion. See all those stories that're only half-formatted? Not very good eye-candy. Why they get billions of reviews stumps me, but I prefer few reviews and nice formatting to lots of reviews and cruddy formatting._

_Ankhutenshi: He's trying to wear Spider-Man down gradually. Not just in the physical sense but in the psychological sense, as well. If Spider-Man's not an ally, he's an enemy. *shrug*_

-------

"You're a mess." 

Peter scoffed. "Why, thanks, Carson. You're looking very sunny and uplifting as well." 

He had just returned to the _Bugle_ from the warehouse district. The perspiration of battle, as well as the smoke and ash, had found its way all over Peter's face, hands, and clothes. He had, of course, noticed this, but he wasn't feeling particularly inclined to do anything about it for the moment. _Especially for a sniveling weasel like Carson..._

"Parker!" 

Peter rolled his eyes as he turned around. _Can't catch a break these days..._ "Yes, Mr. Jameson?" 

Jameson had actually moved beyond chewing the cigar in his teeth to gnawing on it, almost the same way a beaver might gnaw a piece of wood. He had a glint in his eyes, a kind of spark that Peter knew all to well: the triumphant, smug, "I knew it all along" look, complete with a physical display of a huge grin. 

"I suppose you've heard the news, eh, Parker?" 

"Yes, sir." 

"Guess that means you'll be having a tough time taking any more shots of Spider-Man, then. Tough break on your paycheck." 

_Go ahead, kick me out of here. I dare you. I'll shove your ugly face through the wall._ "Yes, sir." 

Jameson clapped Peter on the shoulder once. "Well, don't worry about it, my boy. There's always a story that needs to show _and_ tell, and your pictures do indeed show a good story. When they finally catch that damn wall crawler, we'll need you for the court dates." Jameson chuckled. "But for the moment, I do believe that the pictures you'll be bringing for other stories will be just as good." 

Peter wasn't surprised that he was suddenly getting the star treatment. It was what happened during all those other times Spider-Man had been accused of wrongdoing by someone other than the editor-in-chief of the _Daily Bugle,_ and therefore somehow justified Jameson's belief that Spider-Man was a creature of the devil. 

"How about you go see if Ben Urich needs any more help with his story, eh?" Jameson clapped Peter on the shoulder again, and then returned to his office, the elated look on his lined, craggy face ever present... a look that Spider-Man had always envisioned wiping off someday. 

Peter sauntered over to Ben's desk, which was cluttered with paper, as was usually the case. Ben was poring over files when he caught sight of the photographer. "Peter! How's it going?" 

"It was going a lot better yesterday, when they weren't accusing Spider-Man of being a thief." 

Ben sighed and clasped his hands together. "Yeah, I suppose so. It doesn't exactly seem characteristic of him, though." He pointed at Peter. "I feel safe in telling you that because I can tell, just by the way you said 'accusing', that you don't believe he did it. Am I mistaken?" 

Peter shook his head. 

"Okay, then. So neither of us thinks he robbed those jewelry stores. Care to give me a reason or two as to why he wouldn't do it?" 

Peter shrugged. "Spider-Man's looking for the city's interest, not his own. And even if he were to rob a jewelry store, I'd think he'd be a bit more cautious about it." 

Ben nodded. "True. He'd find a way to completely evade the security systems... he wouldn't just goof around and wait for the camera to taking a picture of him. He'd be in and out. It's the way I've always seen him operate." 

Peter found himself in agreement. Spider-Man _was_ an in-and-out sort of character. It was part of him, completely natural to him, a _modus operandi_ he'd put to use ever since his first days of crime fighting. It had made sense those first few days... the faster you beat up the bad guys and leave, the less chance the bad guy's reinforcements will intervene. 

"But you're also right about him and the city's interests. Despite what Jameson may say, Spider-Man has been a champion of this city, even the world, many times over. Why reduce himself to petty robbery, and even then, make such a sloppy job of it? It just doesn't make sense." 

"In that case, do you have any idea as to who might have done it?" 

Ben shrugged. "I'm sure someone could have cobbled together a cheap Spider-Man outfit somehow. So that doesn't really narrow the list down too much. But if you think about the footage from the stores' security tapes, one can tell that he's almost exactly the same height as Spider-Man would be. Only his enemies really have any perspective of him up close and personal like that... either his enemies or someone else acquainted with them. In which case, even as unlikely as it may seem, we might have to take shapeshifters, like mutants or aliens, into account." 

Peter nodded. When it came to things like these, where he was uncertain, it almost always seemed to make him feel better when he talked to Ben. 

Ben slapped his knees. "Well! I imagine you came over here for something other than griping with me about the Spider-Man situation?" 

Peter scoffed. "Jonah wanted me to find out if there's anything else on the council story that I can help out with." 

Ben shrugged again. "They're holding another meeting this evening, around eight. I think I've got all the photos I need, though... I'll just take from the pool that you made with the first round." 

Peter allowed a small smile. "Thanks. I appreciate it." 

"No problem. Meanwhile..." A grin spread across Ben's face. "Kiddo, you look absolutely exhausted. Go home and get some sleep." 

"Sounds good to me. Oh!" Peter's hands jumped to the camera around his neck. He popped the roll of film out and handed it to Ben. "Could you do me a favor and take care of this for me when you've got the time?" 

"Sure." Ben took the roll and inspected it for a few moments. "Strange that this little thing can tell such a big story." He glanced back up at Peter. "I'll make sure these're properly developed... that one-hour place around the corner is good, but it's hardly the best." 

"This from a writer. My pics are that bad?" 

"No, no, they're always quality. Just making sure you have a reason to keep coming back. Jonah may be a pain, but everyone else here seems to like you." 

Peter smiled. "Good to know. Thanks for taking care of it." 

"Yeah. Now vamoose! Get some sleep!" 

Peter chuckled as he left the building and headed home. 

*** 

He spent a majority of the day taking Ben's advice, staying home and lounging around. He did head to the newsstands outside the apartment complex and pick up two papers at one point, making sure not to get a copy of the _Bugle_. He could head back at any point and get a copy for free... why waste the change? 

Not surprisingly, both papers had articles about Spider-Man somewhere on the front cover. Peter sighed as he perused the articles... both were pretty much the same story, just told from two different people. Spider-Man had apparently robbed no less than a dozen jewelry stores across Manhattan, getting caught full-view on almost all of their security cameras. The total loss was somewhere in the vicinity of two million dollars, and the stores had all closed for the day... possibly the week, the month, or even permanently. 

There was also the matter of Pyro's capture. He'd gotten pictures of that, as well... the mutant had been waiting for a good fifteen to twenty minutes before anybody thought to look back there. As he was being led away (his webbing bonds good for another half-hour, at the least), he wailed to everyone within earshot about the poisoned food and how Spider-Man was a traitor to mutantkind. He'd been taken to a solitary confinement cell in the max security prison... no light whatsoever, and thick concrete walls all around. At last report, he was still screaming about the food and Spider-Man. 

It was at this point that he began the tedious task of trying to contact other heroes for some sort of assistance. He tried the Fantastic Four, the Avengers... even the Xavier Institute in Westchester. But every time he tried to call them, the call seemed to disconnect; he heard a _click_, and then a dial tone. He nearly threw the phone against the wall in frustration. 

He sat back against the headboard of his bed and laid the crook of his elbow across the bridge of his nose, the segments of his arm each covering one eye. _Why does all this have to happen to me? First Lehnsherr and his vaunted Brotherhood, then Black Cat ditching, and now this... and in the middle of all that, I'm getting more and more rattled every time I hear the word "mutant". What's happening to me? Am I becoming like Lehnsherr... bitter about everyone who doesn't accept me for who and what I am, even if it's only in "hero mode"?_

_They're all right. I _am _a mutant, whether I choose to acknowledge it or not. I guess that automatically makes me a "brother". I didn't really have any more choice in the matter of getting bitten by that spider than the born mutants did about their own genetic structure. None of us can help being what we are._

His brow knitted. _But what happens when humanity decides to actively hunt us all down? _I_ might be safe, but it's doubtful that others will. What'll happen when that time... that war... comes? Which side will I take?_

He found himself lost in thought for a long time, and he drifted into a fitful sleep. It was only at the ringing of the phone that he awoke. The arm over his eyes was asleep now, and he had to shove it off with his other hand. 

Peter managed to grab the receiver before the answering machine picked up. "Hello?" 

"Hey, tiger. Still missing me?" 

"You know it." Peter settled himself and let his deadened arm hang limply at his side. "You got some time? I really need someone to talk to right about now." 

"I think I can spare a few moments," MJ chuckled. Her tone grew more serious, though, as she said, "I've been hearing some weird reports about Spider-Man... going on some bizarre shopping spree?" 

"It wasn't me," he replied. "Some impostor. _Again._ You'd think these stupid humans would know better by now." 

"Stupid humans?" 

_Oh, no... now it's bleeding into home life!_ Peter spoke slowly. "I... think I've got some explaining to do." 

"You've got that right. Start talking." 

And so he did. He launched into it from the very beginning, when he'd first been approached by Lehnsherr atop the Statue of Liberty, to Black Cat saying she was with the Brotherhood now, to the mutant girl he'd rescued, to the news of the impostor. 

MJ sighed as she took all the news in. She started with Lehnsherr. "Seems to me like you made the right decision by not joining him, then. Otherwise he'd probably have found a way to sucker you into doing what he wants." 

"Maybe... but somehow, he finds ways of touching chords with mutants." He then told her the story of battling Pyro, and how the man had claimed that the food he'd burned was poison. 

"That's a problem," she said in massive understatement. 

"Um, yes. But if he's telling them, they're bound to do something about it. Activists might have the FDA take a closer look at the organic components in the food... make sure everything's in line. They'll find out if it's not. Probably with a blood sample from Pyro himself, no less... that'd be fitting." 

"I'll bet. Meanwhile... what're you gonna do about all of it?" 

Peter shrugged. "To be honest, I'm not sure what I _can_ do about all of it. I guess I'll just take it one step at a time. If Lehnsherr's mutants attack again, I'll be there to handle them... and if they've got a genuine problem with something, they'll let the public know. In the only way they know how." 

MJ sighed. "You've got your hands tied, haven't you?" 

"Indeed." 

"Wish I could be there with you. I'm actually getting offers here... walk-on roles and the like, nothing permanent, but at least I'm getting jobs and making money. Speaking of jobs, how's Jameson taking the news of Spider-Man's reported thievery?" 

"Oh, he's ecstatic. You should have seen the way his eyes were glinting today... matched the lit butt of his cigar. Disgusting." 

"Glad I missed it." 

"You should be." Peter heaved a long sigh. "Any suggestions?" 

"None whatsoever. You're gonna have to be the brains and brawn for this, tiger." 

"How comforting." 

MJ snorted. "Be thankful you even have someone left to talk to about it. If you come across her again, you could try to talk Black Cat out of the Brotherhood... maybe she'll listen this time." 

"I can only hope at this point. I don't even know if she'll turn up again... or if she does, if she'll come about in a peaceful manner." _There's the scary prospect that I might have to fight her, if Lehnsherr's as convincing as all that..._

"Then we'll both hope. Maybe your chances will increase." 

"Maybe." Peter glanced at the clock. 7:53 P.M. Almost time for the council meeting to start. "The city council's trying to figure out what to do about the mutants. A couple of them are really prejudiced. They're not even hiding it. But the others either don't care or are pro-mutant." 

"Let's hope it stays that way, then." 

"Yeah. Had to sit through one of their sessions the other day. Not fun." 

"Guess not. Listen, I've got to run soon; there's a taping I have to be at in a little bit. I'll call when I can, okay?" 

"All right. Love you." 

"Love you, too. Stay safe." 

Peter hung up, got off the bed, and hunted down the remote control. He sat down in front of the TV and started channel surfing. _Something to occupy my time until something actually newsworthy pops up..._

He didn't find any stations he wanted to stick with before eight o'clock; at that point, he changed it to one of the local stations that broadcast the council meeting live. This one, like the one he'd attended, was boring. 

_The difference is that I can actually fall asleep in the middle of this one without worrying about getting my butt kicked out of the _Bugle_ for good..._

Councilman Daniels was on the warpath again. His oration was as long and made as little sense as any filibuster Peter had ever heard, but he was passionate about the issue. He wanted internment camps for mutants, plain and simple, just as Senator Kelly did. 

_Yeah, sure, Daniels. Let's see you jump into those camps and become like us. See how you'd handle that sort of lifestyle. Persecution and hatred for what you are. Mutants don't persecute the humans. It's always the majority that persecutes the minority, not the other way around. _Fortunately, however, the other council members seemed to be keeping Daniels in check... relatively. 

Suddenly, a burst of static blitzed the sound on the TV. Peter turned the volume down somewhat, but then spotted something that made him pay far more attention with his eyes than with his ears. 

The papers that were cluttering the tables before them were suddenly rising from those tables and flying about, as if struck by a strong wind. Yet from the appearances of the council members, there was no such wind gusting through the chamber. 

Several council members stood up at this sudden, strange, and more than a little frightening turn of events. 

A youthful face abruptly appeared in front of the camera. He had white hair, but he was obviously a young man, seemingly no older than Peter. His sharp features and his steely eyes burned into Peter's from across the boundaries of the TV screen. 

The static suddenly let up, and his voice was made audible. 

"Hello, all. Quicksilver here. Sorry to interrupt your regularly scheduled broadcast of these boring old geezers, but I've got a few things to say. We don't like how you humans have taken to letting all your anger out on mutants. We don't think it's fair that you take it out on us, and we're not 'allowed' to retaliate. So here we are, paying you back for all the grief you've given us. And we're gonna start with Mr. Daniels, over here." 

He grinned and gestured theatrically at Councilman Daniels's seat. The man was apparently trying to remove his butt from his chair, and he seemed to be having an exceedingly difficult time in doing so. 

A young woman stood behind him. She sported black and dark red clothing, with a long red overcoat. She wore gold jewelry, most culminating in crosses of different forms. She had short, black hair with reddish highlights, and her eyes seemed to burn with an unexplainable hatred. 

She was holding her hands out almost strategically, the fingers on her right hand wiggling at the papers flying about the chambers, while her left hand was spread out over Daniels's head. 

The fingers on that hand began to curl. 

Daniels's struggling at his chair stopped, and he brought both his hands up to claw at his chest. He began to babble incoherently. 

Suddenly, Quicksilver appeared at the young woman's side. For a moment, Peter wondered if somehow the camera had skipped a couple of slides, but it was all real-time. 

A crackling _whoosh_ came across the audio as a burst of static. 

_He must have run over there... in a millisecond..._

His garb could be seen now... he was wearing a blue and aqua costume, with aerodynamic-looking white armor settled on his shoulders, arms, and shins. The young man waved at the camera. "And now you'll all see what _we_ have to say. Or, rather, what the Scarlet Witch has to say." 

The apartment was already vacant. 

*** 

The police were taking a longer time to get to the council chambers, it seemed, than they had to get to the warehouse. Nevertheless, they got there before Spider-Man did. He watched the cruisers crowd around the building as he rode his webs through the residential districts. 

He heard the crackling of gunfire only a few moments later, and a sick feeling grew in the pit of his stomach. _I didn't see anything happen... are they firing on the mutants without provocation?_

He swung harder and soared up high. When he hit the apex of his gain, he fired a webline toward the ornamental steeple atop the building. The web fastened to it, and he wound around the towering pillar several times before landing on the roof. 

He searched around for an air vent and found one off to the left. He climbed inside and made his way through the intensely dirty innards of the council chambers. He could hear Quicksilver talking to the TV cameras, off in the distance. 

"...and in case any police decide to show up, which there most undoubtedly will be, we've taken necessary precautions. Some of you blue boys already know what my darling sister can do, what with those guns of yours going off in the trunks of your own cars. How sad is that? I mean, really... you can't even control your own weaponry. So how do you expect to control the mutant population?" 

Spider-Man felt his spider-sense tingling, and he knew that he was getting closer to his target. He breathed a sigh of relief upon the revelation of what had been going on with the gunfire. Even with the loaded guns, the police knew better than to point their barrels at the cabins. Any gunfire had likely blown out their trunks and perhaps a few chunks of the rear fenders. 

"Speaking of mutants," Quicksilver continued, "we need to get back to that point. We mutants don't appreciate the way you humans are treating us like ant hills, just waiting to be knocked over. And my sister and I aren't the only ones who think this, oh no... mutants all over the world are saying the same thing. The deal is, though, that we're willing to take action in order for our voices to be heard. And it's about time, too." 

Spider-Man could hear the cries of Councilman Daniels, whose heartbeat was still presumably under the Scarlet Witch's control. No doubt she was decreasing it with each passing moment. Interestingly enough, there seemed to be no other outcries or windbag declarations of retaliation by the police... perhaps the chambers had been evacuated, or everyone else had been allowed to leave...? 

"That said, I encourage all of you mutants out there to take action. Let your voices be heard! You don't have to go to the kind of extremes _we're_ going to, obviously, but there are things you can do! You don't have to sit around and wait for the humans to take you where you don't want to go! You can join together and fight for yourselves! Fight for your own freedom! 

"You all have to recognize by now that this country is a fraud. All of it! It's no longer a place of peace and tolerance! It's a madhouse of orthodoxy and conformity! You don't have to take it anymore!" 

Spider-Man found a grill just above the rear left corner of the chamber, and he didn't waste time. He crashed through it feet first. 

There were no other people inside, save the councilman and the two mutants. _Thank God for huge favors like that one..._

As soon as he landed, his spider-sense twinged hard, and he jumped forward... just in time, because the man called Quicksilver had raced around the room and tried to deliver a devastating punch. His fist sailed through the air and caught nothing but. He cried out and toppled. 

Spider-Man fired a line of web at Quicksilver, intent on keeping him floored... 

But his spider-sense blasted him as soon as the web was released, and he dodged to the left -- just barely avoiding his own webs. 

He frowned. _What...?_

Quicksilver hopped to his feet and grinned at the wall crawler. "My sister's quite versed in the hexes she can cast. Get ready for a beatdown." 

Spider-Man studied his opponent carefully and defensively moved to the left. 

Quicksilver's grin grew wider. 

The spider-sense twanged, and Spider-Man leapt high into the air. Quicksilver moved just beneath him, missing his target completely. 

The spider-sense seemed to slow everything down, and he found himself watching Quicksilver moving to the other side of the chamber... his speed was still obviously superhuman, but he was much easier to track this way. 

_Great to have a spider's speed on your side_, he thought, as Quicksilver came back around, intent on ramming the webslinger. 

Spider-Man leapt back to the wall behind him and attached to it, then used the wall and his own momentum as a springboard. He jumped directly forward and straightened out, pumping both of his fist far out in front of him. 

Quicksilver saw this at the last possible instant and tried to dodge. He spun on one heel in the process, however, and sent himself into a dizzying spin that landed him on one of the tables. A loud _crash_ resounded throughout the chamber, and he groaned in surprise, dizziness, and pain. 

Spider-Man turned to face the Scarlet Witch. _Speed's taken care of... now what to do about the power?_

She roared incoherently and gestured in his direction. 

A flurry of scattered paper all suddenly flew straight at him and seemed to stick to him. He pried away at them, but they returned to him, as if he were a massive charge of static electricity. 

_Kinda like webbing_, he thought. _Only it doesn't really hinder any of my movements..._

He pointed one web-shooter at her and fired, while at the same time stepping to his right to avoid the web, should it come flying back at him. 

But it wasn't the web she gestured at this time... instead, it was the nearest table. Before Spider-Man's stunned eyes, the table stood up, bent, warped, and twisted itself to block the path of the webbing. 

Then it flung itself at him. 

He jumped high into the air and affixed himself to the ceiling, but almost jumped away from it on reflex... this same move had gotten him into trouble earlier that day. 

She grunted, and the ceiling seemed to cave in. Spider-Man lost his grip and fell on his back. 

_Ohh... that's gonna leave a mark..._ He gasped for breath as he watched the ceiling continue to cave. Chunks of plaster fell all around him, and he rolled out of the way of one particularly large piece heading straight for his head. 

He noticed, as he got back to his feet, that the paper was no longer sticking to him. _Thank God for smaller favors, too..._ He began bounding off the walls and web swinging all around the chamber, knowing that his speed would be his greatest advantage against her; there was no way his other abilities could hope to match hers. 

She pulled her left hand away from Councilman Daniels, who had by this time fainted from the slow beat of his heart. That same hand shoved in his direction, and his chair -- with him in it -- flew across the room and nearly struck Spider-Man head-on. Spider-Man dodged it just in time. 

"Now, now, is that the way to treat your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man?" he called out, as he began erratic maneuvers, trying to keep her off-balance. 

Her only response was to fling both of her hands out and roar. The entire chamber seemed to warp itself, the fluorescent lights shattering and exploding. Any drapery was violently ripped from its moorings and flew at the wall crawler, and all furniture jumped out at him, trying to block the path that only he knew. 

Spider-Man stayed intent on dodging everything, trying to keep her off-guard. Evasion was key... she was too slow for him, and they both seemed to know it; as a result, she was trying to overpower him. 

He fired a web to cross the chamber, but the web swerved in another direction and attached to the wall on the left instead. Spider-Man flailed about on the webline, his planned trajectory fouled. "Whoa!" 

With the new plotted course, he'd be sailing straight by her, and he'd be totally open for attack with whatever hexes she had in mind. 

_But..._

He gripped the line tightly in his right hand as he made straight for her. A triumphant smile split the malice on her face, and she stretched both hands out toward him. 

Under his right arm, his left hand was waiting, his middle fingers on the palm sensor for his web-shooter. 

The webbing sprayed directly into her eyes, much as he had caught Pyro. 

She screamed and tried to claw away at the webbing. Her fingers scrabbled across the sticky fluid as Spider-Man landed on the left wall; he rebounded off it and leapt for her. He tackled her around her midsection and took her to the floor. 

As she grunted and struggled, he held her wrists to the ground and sprayed her wrists and hands with webbing. For good measure, he webbed her ankles, as well, to ensure that she wouldn't be getting up until authorities found a way to deal with her. 

"Pietro!" she screamed. "Help me!" 

_Spider-sense..._

Spider-Man leapt to the side, but was unable to fully dodge the ramming action Quicksilver was executing. His side caught the brunt of it, and he flew into the wall. 

"You've still got me to deal with, Spider-Man!" Quicksilver yelled, no longer cocky. 

"Lucky me!" Spider-Man retorted, as he tried to get up. Quicksilver charged him again, this time catching him head on. 

Spider-Man hit the wall so hard that a crater formed in it. He reached out and tried to catch Quicksilver with a webline, but the young mutant was too fast for it this time. He raced around the council chamber and slammed into him again. 

"This wouldn't be so hard on you if you'd just join the Brotherhood!" Quicksilver called out. "We're willing to forgive, even after your transgressions against Pyro! Even against my sister and me!" 

The spider-sense seemed to slow everything down again, and this time Spider-Man was somewhat ready for Quicksilver. As Quicksilver circled and tried to hit him once more, he thrust his fist out and caught the mutant under the ribs. 

"You guys just don't take 'no' for an answer, do you?" Spider-Man responded, as he rose fully and stepped away from his opponent. 

"You're a mutant! We should stand together!" Quicksilver answered, trying to recover from the hit. 

"Same song and dance as before. It's getting old." Spider-Man fired another pair of weblines, this time trying to trap Quicksilver between them. 

The young mutant again dodged the lines and ran around the council chamber. 

Spider-Man stepped swiftly to his right and affixed a webline to the wall, hoping to clothesline his fleetfooted opponent. No such luck; Quicksilver ducked under the line and ended up directly behind Spider-Man. 

The spider-sense alerted the wall crawler to his opponent's position, and he swung a roundhouse punch. Quicksilver deftly ducked under it, then offered a punch of his own. Spider-Man limboed under the swing, then came back up and cracked his head against Quicksilver's chin. 

They stumbled back, both stunned from the strike, but Quicksilver was again on the evasion, running an erratic path across the chambers. Spider-Man sprayed out multiple weblines, his frustration growing with each miss. He was quickly running out of webbing to use, and the entire place was getting covered in it... but the mutant remained untouched. 

_The only way I could beat him is if I trip him up... but he's too fast for my webbing... unless..._

Spider-Man jumped into the center of the chamber and pulled one of his reserve webbing cartridges from his belt. He dropped it to the floor, jumped up over it, and stomped down on it with one heel, keeping the other foot in the air as if he were in some frozen position of a riverdance. 

The webbing from the cartridge spewed out from under his heel, flying across the entire floor until it attached to a wall or a piece of furniture. 

Quicksilver had no possible way of avoiding the sticky gunk, and he cried out as he was suddenly, violently stopped in his racks by the instantly fastening fluids. 

Spider-Man took that opportunity and sprayed Quicksilver up and down with webbing, the mutant screaming in denial all the while. Soon, the neophyte was covered in web from shoulders to toes. 

Spider-Man reached out and gripped the mutant by the neck. "I'll bet he won't be so willing to have me in the Brotherhood after this, huh?" 

Quicksilver managed a weak smile. "You're wrong. Even after this, the offer remains open. Not like I want it to now, I guess... but he's at least shown us that mutants shouldn't fight each other. We can't do ourselves any good that way." 

"And we're not doing the humans any good by attacking them. We have to show them that we're not the enemy... your way _would_ tell them we're the enemy. Then war will be inevitable." 

"It was inevitable from the start. Your way would only delay it... or worse, bring mutantkind to its knees. We can't let the humans take us down!" 

"I don't plan to _let_ them do anything to me. I'm going to fight for them, though... because they deserve my protection. More so than people like you." 

And with that, Spider-Man departed through the same air vent he'd traveled before. 

The cameras were still running.

-------

_And what a scene they saw! Review? Even to poke plot holes!_


	8. Chapter 8

_A/N: Hope everyone is enjoying!_

_Appreciative reader: Here's hoping that you're vocalizing what everyone else is apparently afraid (or possibly too lazy?) To say!_

-------

The next morning, Peter Parker awoke bright and early. He stared at the clock for a few moments in wonder. _It's not even eight o'clock yet and I'm wide awake. How 'bout that?_

He rolled over, and a sharp lance of pain shot through his side. He groaned. _Maybe it'd have something to do with the bruised ribs!_

He sat up and got out of the bed. The entire apartment was about as warm as it had been under the covers, due to the recent heat wave. It had apparently been breaking up last evening, though, because when Peter approached the window, he saw that moisture had been collecting on it. 

_Well... guess that means that a form-fitting costume will be a nice source of warmth on any future endeavors..._

_If I even _have_ any more future endeavors..._

He groaned again and made his way to the TV and his favorite chair. As soon as he sat down, he realized that the remote was nowhere to be found. Aloud, he muttered, "Okay, who stole it this time?" 

He got down on his hands and knees and hunted for it for no less than five minutes. He noted to himself, with more than a little bemusement, that this was not the first time in the last few days that he'd gone in search of the device and found himself spending more time looking for it than he might spend actually watching the set. He was also expending more energy to find the device that he could have expended to simply change the channel manually. 

_What can I say? I love gadgets._

He found the remote sitting on one of the kitchen counters. He harrumphed and headed back out to the living room, where he activated the television and sat back down in his favorite chair. Credits were rolling for the previous show... some kind of kid's show involving a magical baseball cap. News was up next, and Peter found himself holding his breath for what would appear there. 

"Good morning, I'm Chuck Zander. Today's top story: the city council meeting last night received some unexpected company when a pair of juvenile mutants attacked the council members, most seriously Councilman Rex Daniels." 

The shot switched to a clip of Quicksilver and Scarlet Witch in the mist of wreaking havoc on the chambers, an action that Spider-Man had apparently missed while in transit to the building. 

"The mutants, identifying themselves as Quicksilver and Scarlet Witch, were protesting current human-mutant relations. Their rant was disrupted, however, by Spider-Man, who engaged them in combat and proved successful in stopping their wanton destruction of the chambers and attempted murder of Councilman Daniels." 

The shot again changed, this time to a view of Spider-Man leaping and bounding across the chambers as Scarlet Witch, and then Quicksilver tried to attack him repeatedly. 

Peter's eyes grew wide. _Duh! Of course the cameras were rolling the entire time!_ He chuckled. _Wow... all those slides of good shots... I'd love to get a hold of just one of them and shove it in Carson's face. Better yet, Jameson's. "Here's your _real_ grit!"_

_Speaking of them, I guess I'd better head to the _Bugle_ for any new story assignments. But first..._

Peter got himself some breakfast and a quick shower before heading out the door. _Time to go make some money._

*** 

The first thing Peter saw when he walked across the floor was Ben Urich's grinning face. "Hey, Peter. You hear the good news the other night?" 

"How could I not?" Peter responded. "Hopefully that all means that Spider-Man wasn't the robber." 

"Oh, I'm sure of it," Ben replied. "But it was still good to see that he's out, doing his thing, even with all of these allegations against him. I refuse to believe for a minute that it was Spider-Man that committed those robberies, anyway. So why dwell on it too much? I'll bet he's on the case of finding out who the _real_ culprit is right now." 

_You bet he is_, Peter thought. "Did you get the pics taken care of?" 

"Sure did. Got 'em right here." Ben pulled out a drawer and removed a photo envelope from it. "Take a look at these... I think you'll find something paper-worthy in there." 

"Hope so." Peter searched through the photographs. _Jeez... he wasn't kidding. These really _are_ good quality. I'm gonna have to find out where he gets them developed._

"Oh! And good news for you, I'm sure... Kate's in today." Ben winked at Peter. 

Peter frowned. "Is it _that_ obvious?" 

"Depends. What do you think is obvious to me?" Ben's smile turned mischievous. 

"I'm just figuring you somehow knew I don't like Carson." 

"Newsflash, kiddo... nobody likes Carson. Except for Jameson." 

Peter chuckled. "So, as you said, nobody, right?" 

Ben winced. "Ouch. That's harsh." He smiled again. "The kid's a brown-noser; everyone knows that. More power to him, I guess... he wants to get to the top, and meanwhile, we don't want him to stay here with us lowlifes. That's pretty much the only reason he gets to be an editor when Kate's not around." 

"Ah. Stick him in the broom closet and wait for the day to end, eh?" 

"Basically." 

A loud _bang_ suddenly sounded, and it was followed by a burst of expletives. Peter turned in the direction of the origin, then raised an eyebrow to Ben. 

Ben shrugged. "He used to bang his desk with his fist, but that hurt... he changed it to a newspaper, but it was too light... banged drawers, but that broke them... he's got a rubber mallet in one of those drawers now." 

Peter laughed. "Are you serious?" 

"Honest to God." 

"Parker!" 

Peter tried to stop laughing as Jameson stalked out of his office. The cigar worked around in his mouth... apparently in consternation. "What the hell are you so happy about?" 

"Nothing, sir," Peter responded, trying to put out of his mind the image of a rubber mallet-toting J. Jonah Jameson sitting at his desk, waiting for a Spider-Man report to pop up. 

"Well, good. No time to be happy. Only time to work!" Jonah emphasized his point with an upraised index finger. He jabbed that finger at Ben after a moment. "And you... you'd best get yourself down to the council chambers. Yet another of the wall crawler's rampages down there. We need that. Go to it!" 

"Whatever you say, Jonah." 

"Hmph. And you..." Jonah's finger moved and pointed at Peter. "You go with him. We need some good quality pictures of what the webslinger enjoys doing in his spare time." 

_Tony Stark couldn't pay me enough to give you pictures of that_. "Yes, sir." 

"Good." Jonah stalked back into his office mumbling something or another... Peter couldn't make it out, but he presumed it was some gripe about Spider-Man. 

Ben glanced up at Peter. "We'll go do that in a little bit. There's a bit of revision I want to do on this story first, and I'll be right with you." 

"All right." Peter sauntered down the hall and stopped at the soda machine. He bought a 20 oz. bottle of Coke, wondering why as he did so. _This stuff goes through my system faster than a Clydesdale can fill a Dixie cup_. 

He headed back to Ben's desk and grabbed a nearby seat, waiting patiently. 

"So," said Ben, "how do you figure Spider-Man will get himself out of this one?" 

Peter shrugged. "Same way he always has. In and out, one step at a time." 

"I find myself worrying about this 'Brotherhood' that was mentioned, though. I saw the newscast last night... pretty intense, don't you think?" 

_Um, yes. Play along, Parker!_ "Yeah. But why are you worried about the Brotherhood, or whatever it's called?" 

"Common sense. Sounded to me like somebody was trying to get Spider-Man to join this Brotherhood, and he doesn't want to, and now they're on really evil terms with each other." 

"I suppose that rings true enough." 

"Hope so. You're a bright kid. Anyway, it almost seems as if..." Ben sighed, trying to find the right words. "Seems like Spider-Man's being drawn into the open by the sudden rash of mutant violence. First the warehouse yesterday, and then the council meeting last night. And drawing him out only allows the police to get closer to finding him. And it's not like he can really tell them that he's not the one who did it, when they've got video evidence that says otherwise." 

"You and I know he didn't do it, though." 

"Unfortunately, strong inclinations and passive observation of the behavior of a superhero is not going to provide ample evidence against the videos." 

"Shame." 

Ben snorted, then got to his feet and picked up his jacket. "Let's get going." 

*** 

The council chambers were almost exactly as Peter recalled them. The only noticeable differences were that there were no mutants webbed to the floor, nor was there any webbing here at all... and police tape blocked off a majority of the chamber. The press were only allowed in a certain area. 

Ben and Peter didn't especially mind... there were plenty of people to talk to, and there were plenty of pictures to be taken. The view of the chambers itself seemed to tell a large portion of the story... something akin to a war had happened here. Ben made sure to talk to as many people as possible, while Peter filled two rolls of film with snapshots of the chambers, emphasizing the warped furniture and wreckage. Even if Jonah's views on the incident were skewed, there was no point in hiding anything from public view, not as far as this sort of thing went. 

The entire job took far less time than had the task of attending the meeting the other day... Peter found himself morbidly grateful for that. Soon enough, he and Ben headed back to the _Bugle_. There wasn't much else to say between the two of them... they'd gotten all the information they needed for the moment, and they were content with that. 

Still, things weighed heavily on Peter's mind. _Lehnsherr would still take me into the Brotherhood, even after all this? I don't think he would... I've never know someone to be so forgiving._

_Why am I even thinking about it? The entire thing's already done and overwith! I said no, and no means no, right? After all, I could just abandon it all and go for one of the bad guy groups... right?_

_But these are mutants... and they're attacking with a definite, legitimate complaint. They're doing things the only way they know how... and the only way to correct that vision is to find a way to appeal to them. There's no way I could do that as an enemy. As a friend, though..._

_No! I can't join them. I just can't do it. It's not for me. They're harming innocent people, and they have to be stopped... even if they _are_ "my kind"._

He sighed heavily. Ben heard it. "Problem?" 

Peter shook his head. "Minor moral dilemma. Nothing for you to worry about. I'll take care of it." 

"Heard from MJ recently?" 

"Last night, actually. Just a little while before the council meeting." 

"Good. Communication's important." 

"You sound like a college psychology textbook." 

"No doubt." 

They spent the rest of the trip in relative silence, and Peter continued to ponder Lehnsherr and his strange Brotherhood. 

*** 

When they got back to the _Bugle_, Peter made sure to get his pictures processed first thing. While they processed, he grabbed a copy of the morning edition and skimmed through the stories. He found it rather amusing, in a dark way, that they were only now beginning to realize something was wrong with the superhero groups in town; none of them seemed to be responding to calls, and the crime levels were beginning to rise. The police were holding down the fort rather admirably, taking care of most of it... but there were a few people who were proving very tricky for the law. 

Peter had taken up a seat next to Ben Urich's desk, finding that area to be one of the few pockets of silence and civility in the otherwise chaotic building. No sooner had he finished off the story about concern over missing heroes than the pocket was turned inside-out by a loud _bang_, followed by another, longer string of expletives than they'd heard before they'd left for the council chambers. Jameson stormed out of his office shortly afterward. 

Peter again had to restrain himself from laughing at the image of Jameson banging his desk with a rubber mallet, and well that he did, because Jonah was looking even more angry than he had before. He glared menacingly at Ben and Peter. "And what are you two doing back so early?" 

"We've got what we need. Peter's waiting for his pictures to be developed, and I'm typing up the story," Ben replied blandly. "What about you? Done anything special for the paper lately?" 

"Doing the story for the Thanksgiving Day Parade, if you must know," Jonah sneered. "And going over the layout for the front cover, too. I'd love to see the look on the wall crawler's unmasked face when he sees the headline." He chuckled. 

Peter frowned. "What does it say?" 

Jonah held his hands up, as if envisioning the letters just in front of him. "Mutant Violence Takes Its Toll On Spider-Man'." He chuckled again. "Good lord, I wish I could see what he'd have to say to that." 

_If only you knew._

Ben spun around in his seat and frowned at Jonah. "This is a new low for you, Jonah... making the headline so that it would implicate Spider-Man is part of the mutant violence." 

"Oh! Is that what it implies?" Jonah made a show of stroking his chin and shaking his head thoughtfully. "I hadn't thought of that, Ben. Got any other implications hidden in there?" 

"Far as I'm concerned, that's the one that stands out." 

"Oh, come on, Ben. You know it and I know it. I'll bet Parker over there knows it, too. Spider-Man is just another one of those lowlife mutants who thinks it's okay to not only trash the city, but bring _new_ trash _into_ it! It's despicable. And you don't think I'm not going to let the public know that that's what he's doing? You're all blind, I say." 

Ben snorted and turned back to his computer. "You're wasting your breath and your ink, Jonah. Print something the public actually think is worth reading. Then maybe this paper will make some decent money." 

Jonah ground his teeth, his cigar almost shredding between them. He looked at Peter. "What about you, huh? You see it, don't you?" 

Peter paused for a moment, then folded up his paper and tossed it next to Ben's fax machine. "All I see is that Spider-Man is someone who's looking to protect the city from the ones who want to do it harm. I'm not sure what harm you see in him. It's not like he's got it out for you." 

Jonah groaned. "Argh! I'm surrounded by blind people! Come on, Parker, use your head! All Spider-Man is concerned with is self-image! Everything else is tertiary! Why else would he let the council chambers get wrecked in favor of his little dance with those kid mutants? It's not like he couldn't simply have taken them down if he really wanted to. Oh, no, Parker, he's looking to be like a movie star, always the hero, always doing what's good and right! And popular, by the way. It doesn't work like that in real life, though. The problem is that he doesn't know it!" 

Peter got to his feet. "I don't think so." 

"No? And who asked you?" Jonah leered at Peter. 

Peter glared. "Free country, free opinion. And you're entitled to my opinion just as much as I'm entitled to yours." 

As Jonah was stuck trying to figure that out, Peter continued. "I think the problem is that since you sometimes don't see eye to eye with him, you choose to never see eye to eye. And because you choose to ignore the information when it's right there in front of you... well, according to many sources, that's the definition of stupidity." 

Jonah stepped up to Peter. "You saying I'm stupid, Parker?" 

"Hey, you're the one that said it, not me." 

"Don't get cute with me." 

"Cute?!" Peter stepped up to Jonah until they were only an inch away from each other. Peter was slightly taller than Jonah, and any reasonable person would have been expected to be intimidated right about now. "You know what's 'cute'? Using the headline as an attack against the man who's worked to defend people like you and Carson Roberts and a whole list of other people he's got no reason to like... you've all worked so hard to discredit him because you've got some unexplainable grudge against him. What's the matter, Jonah? Couldn't just write an editorial? You have to go after him with something as petty as a _headline_? How low can you get?" 

Jonah's expression was one of pure fury. "Get out of my face, Parker!" 

"Tell that to your cigar," Peter retorted, even as he stepped away. He deliberately ignored Jonah then, turning to Ben and saying, "I'm heading out for a while. I'll be back when the pictures are ready." 

Ben nodded, keeping his eyes focused on his computer screen. 

Jonah was left standing there in shock. 

*** 

In the privacy of one of the _Bugle_'s bathroom stalls, Peter slammed his fists against the wall again and again, until he was afraid he put them right through it. _Damn him! Damn all those people who make this work so thankless and miserable! It's times like these I might almost accept Lehnsherr's offer just to get back at them, those good-for-nothing..._

He stepped back, dropped to the floor, and brought a hand to his eyes. _Why am I doing this to myself? What is there to accomplish, other than gaining a lot of pain and grief? Why can't I put this sort of thing behind me like I used to be able to?_

_This isn't like me at all. I need to just be able to let go..._

He stayed there on the floor for a long time. Fortunately for him, no one else entered. 

*** 

Hours later, Peter stood outside the _Daily Bugle_ bearing the evening edition. He was not very happy with what was in it... Jonah had placed an editorial in a column next to the main story's picture (one of Peter's pictures, he noted), and the editorial's headline said, "The Menace Of Mutants". In the editorial, Jonah pointed out just about every obvious thing there was about mutants, up to and including the rather obvious fact that Spider-Man was also a mutant. It went on to point out the problems that some of the more troublesome mutants had caused in the city (including Spider-Man, of course) and generalized to include all mutants in the category of "troublemaker". 

_Oh, yeah, _this_ is liable to make mutants more happy than they already are about the present situation..._ Peter scoffed and raised his hand, looking to flag a taxi. 

Suddenly, his spider-sense tugged at him. 

He looked around for danger, but couldn't see any. He bristled, ready for whatever action might take place... then remembered that out here, he was still Peter Parker. He tried to calm himself, but the spider-sense was going haywire. 

It jerked him hard to the right. 

Automatically, he dived to the right and sprawled on the ground. 

An instant later, a massive character landed where Peter had been standing. 

Peter heard people around him screaming; he stared up at the figure, and his eyes grew wide. _Him...!_

There was no mistaking the gigantic creature. Long, thick, pale hair flowed from him like mane, his huge muscles flexed under his ripped brown clothing, his teeth were feral, and his razored nails glinted in the fading sunlight. 

_Sabretooth!_

His black eyes didn't even give Peter so much as a passing glance... they were concentrated solely on the building in front of him. 

He roared and leaped through the door, shattering the glass as he did so. 

Peter scrambled up off the ground. _Maybe he's working for Lehnsherr now... maybe it's Lehnsherr that's protesting, but too much of a coward to do it himself... so he sends in the true muscle. If he's protesting, he'll be heading straight for the one that wrote the article..._

Peter found himself hesitating for a moment. _What's wrong with me? Come on, get going already! Just because you don't like Jameson is no reason to let him get torn to shreds... but it's what he deserves... still, you have to do it! Come_ on_!_

Peter forced himself to take one step, then another, and another... he seemed to be moving through peanut butter, even though each step was faster than the last. 

The sounds of more shattering glass didn't seem to help him move any faster. But the crowd of people rushing to get away from the building didn't deter him from it, either. 

_So it comes to this. What do I do?_

_Do I let him butcher a man that I don't think deserves to live?_

_Or do I stop him and let that man keep his life when he never had it coming to him?_

_What is the right thing to do?_

_Is it right to let a man die?_

_Or is it right to fight for humans, as a mutant?_

Peter continued to move toward the _Bugle_'s entrance, now moving at a slow, steady pace. 

_In the end... it all comes down to what I think is right. Not what anyone else would think is right... but what I think is right._

_Lehnsherr can't decide it for me. Neither can Jonah, or Ben, or Black Cat, or anyone else..._

_I have to stay true to myself._

_So what is true for me?_

Peter stopped in his tracks and closed his eyes. 

A long moment passed as more roaring and noises of havoc erupted from the _Bugle_. 

_I have to save him._

He nodded once, slowly. And he spoke aloud. 

"I have to." 

_And what's more... I believe it._

His legs suddenly surged with energy, and he raced through the entrance and looked for a place to change into something more comfortable. 

*** 

He still wasn't sure why he took orders from the old man... but at this point, he didn't really care much. He was terrifying people, and he liked that. 

And hearing about what the windbag had written had just provoked him into anger. He might have done it even without being told... simply because he didn't much care for that kind of opinion. 

Thus, Sabretooth launched himself through the halls of the _Daily Bugle_, searching for J. Jonah Jameson, anticipating the scream he would hear before ripping out the puny human's vocal cords with his teeth. 

Something touched the back of his mind... there had been a scent about that man that he had almost landed on top of. Something vaguely familiar. He couldn't place it, exactly. He couldn't remember the man's face, however, and at this point, it made little difference. 

He roared at every frightened passerby he encountered, and the response from all of them was pretty much the same: a high-pitched scream, followed by a sprint in the opposite direction. 

He finally found what he was looking for: the nameplate "J. Jonah Jameson" hung outside one of the office doors, embossed in well-polished brass. He shoved against the door, and it simply gave in as a result of the pressure. He stepped inside, his huge feet destroying the fragile glass on the downed door as he walked across it. 

He smelled a distinct scent... a scent of cigars and terror. He smiled, then delivered a crushing blow to the desktop. A frightened cry emitted from underneath, and the origin of that cry scrambled out from under the desk and stared up at his attacker. 

Sabretooth leaned down and grabbed his victim by his neck. The diminutive man scrabbled at the arm that held him, but to no use... the mutant gripped harder, causing the man's jaw to drop open reflexively. His cigar dropped to the floor and bounced once. 

Sabretooth lifted the man into the air, then pulled him close so that they were face to face. His fingers released an almost infinitesimal amount of pressure, just enough for Jonah to draw breath. 

"Scream for me." 

Jonah's mouth opened wide, and he yelled... 

A familiar scent passed under Sabretooth's nose, and his lip curled... 

"S-Spider-Man!" 

Sabretooth whirled, to see that Spider-Man was standing in the doorway, fists and web-shooters at the ready. "Wanna go another round, kitty?" 

Sabretooth took another glance at Jonah, then hurled him across the room. Jonah bounced off the wall and came to rest atop a copier. 

"We've gotta stop meeting like this," said Spider-Man, moving carefully to the left. 

Sabretooth grinned, and a trail of saliva ran down his jaw. "What a treat... I haven't been fed all day!" 

He bounded straight at Spider-Man, who dodged easily. Sabretooth went sailing through one of the inner office windows, taking a shutter array with him on his way out. 

"Eat floor!" Spider-Man called out after him. 

Sabretooth got to his feet, roared, and leapt at the wall crawler again. 

Spider-Man dodged to his right and fired a line of web at the mutant as he passed. The web caught in Sabretooth's mane, and Spider-Man pulled hard on it. 

Sabretooth flew straight toward Spider-Man, hanging by his head on a webline. 

Spider-Man delivered a heavy slug straight to Sabretooth's jaw. He grimaced and tried to shake the pain out of his knuckles. "Better yet, eat that." 

Sabretooth roared even louder and faked left, then swept in to the right and slashed at the wall crawler. Spider-Man just barely dodged the razored claws, and his costume suffered a pair of parallel rips on his left side from Sabretooth's middle claws. 

"I'll need stitches for that," Spider-Man quipped, firing a pair of weblines at his enemy as he did so. One caught Sabretooth in the chest and the other in his midsection. Before the mutant had a chance to rip them away, Spider-Man yanked back as hard as he could. Sabretooth soared straight at him, and he delivered another devastating blow, this time to Sabretooth's gut. 

The gargantuan mutant hardly even winced. Spider-Man frowned as he danced away, staying just out of his opponent's reach. _What, are head shots the only thing that'll get to him? All right, then..._ Spider-Man leapt as high into the air as the ceiling would allow, and drop-kicked Sabretooth. His heel landed on the bridge of the mutant's nose, and Sabretooth staggered backward, stunned. 

As soon as he landed, Spider-Man caught both of Sabretooth's ankles in weblines and pulled back with all his might. Sabretooth toppled backward and hit the floor headfirst. 

Spider-Man leapt up again and cannonballed Sabretooth in the chest, depriving the stunned mutant of breath that could be crucial to winning the battle. 

The wall crawler got back up and didn't give Sabretooth a chance. He pulled the mutant up by his brown clothes and hurled him through the nearest window to the outside. He leapt through the shattered window quickly afterward, still intent on not letting Sabretooth recover. 

Sabretooth had landed in a grassy area and was trying to struggle to his feet. Spider-Man drop-kicked him again, but the mutant was ready for it this time and caught the wall crawler's foot mid-strike. Spider-Man reacted faster than any human could have, quickly twisting his body around and bringing his other foot to bear across the mutant's face. 

"Blast from the past," he said, as Sabretooth released his foot and staggered backward. "You fell for that one before. Now you can fall for this!" 

Spider-Man jumped straight at the mutant's legs and bashed his shoulders into his opponent's shins. Again, Sabretooth went down, this time landing on his face. The wall crawler didn't waste an instant, grabbing Sabretooth by the back of his coat and hauling him to his feet, still hunched over. Spider-Man tossed him toward the nearest street lamp. 

The pole _clang_ed as Sabretooth rebounded against it, and he shook his head, trying to clear the stars, but Spider-Man would have none of it. He drove his right fist, then his left into Sabretooth's jaw, then grabbed his by his coat again and threw him at a nearby bench. 

By this time, Sabretooth was realizing just how badly he'd underestimated Spider-Man in terms of physical strength and prowess. He smiled inwardly... a meal that fought was a meal well-deserved. He would no doubt be a delicacy. 

Sabretooth landed on the bench, but when Spider-Man came for him, Sabretooth was ready with a powerful blow of his own. He wrenched a plank off the bench and bashed it into the webslinger's left temple. Spider-Man reeled from the hit, and that gave Sabretooth enough time to get up and throw a powerful punch that sent Spider-Man flying across the street. 

Sabretooth grinned. "Fresh meat." He leapt at Spider-Man, looking for the kill. 

Spider-Man drew his legs to his chest as Sabretooth came down upon him... when the mutant landed on top of his quarry, Spider-Man rolled back and pushed off as hard as he could, sending his opponent flying. 

Sabretooth roared in frustration when he found himself lying on his back. He struggled to get up, as did Spider-Man. Both were pained from the fight now, though Sabretooth's healing factor was helping him recover faster than Spider-Man. 

Spider-Man rolled to his feet just in time to see Sabretooth running straight at his, both arms outstretched. 

The webslinger made a prodigious leap, and Sabretooth passed right under him. 

He ran headfirst into another street lamp. The collision was hard enough to knock himself unconscious. 

Spider-Man sprayed Sabretooth with webbing as soon as he hit the ground, making doubly sure to secure the tiger-like mutant's hands. He then strung Sabretooth up high on the lamp. 

Spider-Man scoffed at the sound of police sirens. "A little late for the party, I'd say..." 

He fired a web at the nearest building, and made his exit. 

-------

_Review!_


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N: I'm glad everyone's still enjoying. Wouldn't want to bore you people! Keep reviewing!_

_Spiderbob: Technically, Spider-Man _is_ a mutant. He may not have been born with his super-powers, but that doesn't change the fact that he was mutated because of the spider bite and the venom within. The bite caused a sudden, hyper-rapid mutation of his genetic structure; most writers and novelists who get paid to research and write Spider-Man stories tend to agree on this point (example: _The Venom Factor_ by Diane Duane). In which case, there's no need for me to say this fic is AU. Thanks for bringing that subject to light, though; several people have had questions about that._

_ShadowShock: I'm glad you like it. As for what happens next, well, you're about to find out!_

_Sam: I'm afraid I'm not an avid reader of the comics. I'm more into the novels. So I've never seen Spidey try to talk Toad out of suicide. It sounds like it was interesting, though. Your other wish may yet be granted._

-------

That evening, Spider-Man took to a silent patrol. He knew that he was needed, even if he was wanted by police. He had no idea how many were in Lehnsherr's Brotherhood, but he was sure that if the mutant violence kept up, he'd find out. 

_So far, I've taken out four mutants who have apparent ties with the Brotherhood. Surely there can't be that many more of them... if five X-Men could take on the Brotherhood in its entirety, surely I can take it on one by one..._

_But having to do this by myself is unnerving. I really wish I had some help about now... but Black Cat is on their side now, and no one else can be found. Not even the Avengers or the Fantastic Four!_

He sighed as he spun webs across the city, making sure to stay well out of sight. No point in taking any chance on people -- like Jameson -- who were more than willing to turn him in, even after they'd seen all he'd done after the robbery incidents. 

_But how can I prove to anyone it wasn't me? All I've got to go on is my word, and that, admittedly, isn't much. Not to them, anyway. Guess I'll just have to act in a manner that says I didn't do it... but haven't I been using that manner all along?_

_And who would want to frame me? It doesn't make sense..._

He heard police sirens off in the distance... perhaps about twenty blocks away from where he was. His spider-sense tingled faintly. _Oh, boy... trouble. Something I seem to be getting into a lot these days._

_Well, then, might as well go check it out._

He changed direction and headed to see what the trouble was. _If the blue boys can handle it, I'll just stay a passive observer... but if not... oh, well._

*** 

Sgt. Billy Sanders had never done anything like this before. 

_Chased loonies behind the wheel? Hell, yeah. Chased loonies on foot? Of course. But I've never chased a loony swingin' on a rope before. That's new on me._

Sanders's cruiser was ahead of the pack, and as such, he was the closest one to the so-called "loony". And that loony appeared to be Spider-Man. 

_Takin' in Spider-Man? What has this town come to? It's all insanity. That guy couldn't have committed those crimes... it's not in his nature._

And yet here he was, on patrol, chasing down one of the greater heroes of Manhattan. 

_It doesn't make sense! Why would Spider-Man rip off all those stores? I know the _Daily Bugle_ said it was to take advantage of the trust we had in him, but that can't be it, I just know it can't. He's been around for so long and never done anything like this before... why start now?_

But it wasn't his job to figure these things out... right now, his only job was to make sure that Spider-Man was apprehended. 

The brightly colored hero suddenly dropped down low and landed on the ground. And he simply stood there. 

Sanders's hands were clammy as he pulled up and climbed out of his car. He kept the door open and used it as cover, then brought his gun to bear on the wall crawler through his open window. "Don't move, Spider-Man!" 

The webslinger didn't seem very intent on moving. He simply stood there, arms limp at his sides. He carried nothing with him, but that didn't make him any less dangerous. Sanders knew he had to be extremely cautious, both from the advisories over the radio and from past sightings. 

Soon, police cruisers had completely surrounded the area, trapping Spider-Man in a circle. On two dimensions, anyway... when it came to Spider-Man, they all knew about the ups and downs he'd mastered. Sanders fervently hoped that Spider-Man wouldn't give any of them reason to fire. The last thing he wanted was to be responsible for the death of a world hero. 

_He's saved the world a dozen times over... he wouldn't reduce himself to petty theft, would he? It just doesn't make any sense!_ Sanders's mind roared with such thoughts as other officers shouted orders at Spider-Man, intent on getting him on the ground with his hands on his head. 

Spider-Man did nothing. He made no motions whatsoever; it seemed as if he were completely oblivious to the screaming going on around him. He stared straight ahead, as if watching something with intense focus. 

Suddenly, almost before he knew what was happening, Sanders found his gun beind violently ripped from his grasp by some unseen force. His finger had not been in the trigger guard; nevertheless, as tightly as he had been gripping the weapon, he was slammed against the open door of his car. 

He released the gun on reflex, and it flew far from his grasp. He looked around in confusion, and upon hearing surprised shouts and curses, he realized that the other officers around him were suffering the same problem. 

The guns all landed in a huge pile almost directly in front of Spider-Man. 

The wall crawler wasted no time in shattering Sanders's heroic view of him... he somersaulted straight through the pile of guns, picked up two, and began firing them at police vehicles. 

Sanders ducked under the wheel of his car, huddling himself into as small a ball as possible. 

_How could this have happened? Why is he doing this?_

*** 

Spider-Man saw it all happening, right before his eyes... and he couldn't believe it. First, the audacity of someone impersonating him. 

Second, that that person was using the police's own weapons to try and shoot them down. 

He hurriedly released his webline and fired both web-shooters at the pile of guns in front of the impostor, intent on not letting him at any more of them. Unfortunately, this tipped the impostor off, and he turned to aim both guns directly at the friendly neighborhood version. 

Spider-Man fired a pair of bolts next, and both of them jammed the guns. The impostor pulled the triggers anyway, which only led to the guns blowing apart in his hands. He began cursing in a low voice, just slightly lower than Spider-Man's own voice. 

As soon as he landed, Spider-Man leapt toward his doppelganger... but the impostor moved quickly, very quickly, and Spider-Man caught nothing but air. 

"You're a bit slow to be Spider-Man," said the impostor, in that same low voice. 

"And you're a bit audacious," replied the wall crawler. "I don't suppose you'd care to reveal who you really are, would you?" 

"I'm Spider-Man, of course. And you are?" 

"A lot better at the job than you." Spider-Man's arm snaked up and he sprayed a stream of webbing at his double, but again, the other one jumped away too quickly. He leapt high into the air and performed a prodigious upside-down 720, coming to land behind him. 

_Spider-sense--_

Spider-Man leapt high and backflipped in the air as the impostor threw a foot out, meant to catch him in the back of the head. Before he was even back on the ground, Spider-Man fired another webline at the impostor, but his double was having none of it... he rolled out of the way, and Spider-Man's web hit the pavement. 

The impostor threw a punch this time, but the spider-sense kicked in once again and Spider-Man ducked under it. He jabbed his opponent in the ribs with his own fist, but the impostor used that and lashed a foot out, catching Spider-Man in his own ribs and throwing him at least ten feet away. 

Spider-Man groaned as he tried to get to his feet, but as soon as he was up, his spider-sense went off again. Too dazed and winded to properly counter the hit in time, he only managed to turn slightly as the impostor sailed across the distance in a fierce drop-kick. 

Again, Spider-Man went flying... this time, he smashed through a police cruiser's windshield. 

He groaned loudly as he crawled out of the car. His costume was now torn and shredded in several places, and beneath most of those rips were shallow slashes from the shattered glass. 

The impostor didn't seem content to stop. He ran up to Spider-Man, grabbed him by his costume front, headbutted him in the chin, then tossed him at the nearby street lamp. Spider-Man rebounded off the pole, and he looked up just in time to see the impostor's fist heading for his face. 

He ducked in time to save his nose, but his forehead caught the fist, and the back of his head was violently slammed into the pole. 

The impostor whipped around in a vicious roundhouse kick and cracked his heel against the side of Spider-Man's head. Spider-Man hit the ground and rolled, dazed and coming closer and closer to unconsciousness. 

He saw the impostor's legs pumping straight at him, and he reached out with one hand, desperate. He unleashed another webline, and this time caught the impostor -- of all things -- by the toes. He jerked back as hard as he could. 

The impostor sailed into the air, but at the same time, didn't even seem to slow down. He turned the flight into a bizarre, moving backflip that landed him closer to Spider-Man than he had before. 

Spider-Man rolled to the side and kick-jumped to his feet. The impostor lashed out with another roundhouse kick, but the wall crawler was ready this time and limboed under the strike. When he came back up, he lashed out with a fast punch that caught his opponent across the jaw, followed with an uppercut that sent him flying backward. 

The impostor hit the ground, and Spider-Man quickly webbed his wrists and ankles to it. He then stood over his opponent, wheezing. "You give a guy a real workout." 

"I'm so glad you approve," the impostor responded, sounding not the least bit angry or resentful about the situation. In fact, he almost sounded smug. This was not lost on the webslinger. 

"What're _you_ so happy about?" Spider-Man asked. 

"I know something you don't... and it's something you want to know." 

"Such as?" 

The impostor's form suddenly seemed to warp and melt, twisting itself into something else. Spider-Man could only stand there, amazed, as he watched this almost exact replica of him transform into the image of Black Cat. 

The impostor now spoke in a youthful feminine voice. "Such as where she might be." 

Her (its?) form again changed, this time to an image equally as familiar... that of Erik Lehnsherr. 

Lehnsherr's voice. "Or what he's planning to do." 

"You're one of the Brotherhood, aren't you?" Spider-Man hissed, drawing nearer to the shapeshifter. "Why did Lehnsherr send you to discredit me?" 

"To keep you out of his hair. Look what a good job that did." 

"What are you talking about?" 

"Nothing, unless you want to meet my conditions for hearing it." 

"I'm listening." 

"I want a one-on-one, no holds barred..." The shapeshifter glanced at Spider-Man's wrists. "...web-free, hand-to-hand fighting match with you. If you win, I'll tell you everything you want to know. If you lose... well, you'll be missed, I suppose." 

"We've already taken a beating from each other. I could just take you in and have the blue boys give you a healthy dose of sodium pentothal." 

"Truth serum doesn't work on me. Never has. If you want me to tell you anything, you'll have to hear it on my terms." 

"And how do I know you won't withhold the information if I defeat you?" 

"You've got my word." 

"That's not much, coming from a shapeshifter." 

"True enough. But it's what I have to give. Just like your word was all you had to give in the matter of robbing the jewelry stores." 

Spider-Man frowned, the knitting of his brow visible through his mask. This person, whoever or whatever it was, had a point. Still he wasn't sure whether he could trust it or not. 

"Think of it this way... if you say no, there's no way you'll get the information out of me." 

Spider-Man thought for a few moments, then glanced up at the police cruisers. The cops were still huddled inside, their guns still inaccessible. 

_I shouldn't let her go... but she may well be right. And if she has information like that that she's willing to share if I beat her, it could go a long way towards finding Lehnsherr, the true mastermind behind all of these attacks. And she also said he was up to something... I have to find out what._

_If this is the only way..._

He looked back down at the impostor. "Show me your true form, and I'll do it." 

Obligingly, the shapeshifter's skin and clothing transformed again, and this form brought the most surprise to Spider-Man. 

This was most definitely the form of a female. She was young, definitely no older than twenty-five. She had red hair that extended to her shoulders. Her yellow eyes were full of contempt and malice for a world of humans that refused to accept mutants. And Spider-Man could tell, without looking too hard, that her body could and probably had attracted many men... he could tell this because she was naked, every last square inch of her blue skin exposed. Scales graced her extremities and made them look more lethal. 

She grinned up at him. "Mystique's the name, and faking is the game." 

"Obviously." Spider-Man bent down and released one of her hands, which she subsequently transformed into something razored and nightmarish. She used it to slice the rest of the webbing away. Then she leapt away from Spider-Man and crouched into a form of battle readiness that he's not encountered before. 

Spider-Man brought his fists up in the standard drunken boxing form, and readied himself for her attack. He gave her a respectful distance, and he waited for her to make the first move. 

She charged forward with a merciless drop-kick. He leapt high over it and crouched upon landing, only to have his spider-sense ringing in his ears again... she made a lightning fast turnaround and lashed out with her other foot. She caught him in the chest, and he was knocked back into the wall of a building. 

She advanced as he got to his feet, rushing in quickly while at the same time providing as little a target as possible for him. She drove a fist into his jaw, then swung around with her other fist. He ducked, but when he rose back up, she reversed her swing and cuffed him across the temple. He was knocked to the ground. 

_I have to do something quick..._

He pushed through his inhibitions about hitting women and slammed a foot into her abdomen. She recovered quickly, but not fast enough to keep him from performing a reverse somersault and getting back to his feet. 

She spun around and lashed out with raking talons for fingernails. He ducked again and swung his right leg around, sweeping her own out from under her. She turned her fall into a cartwheel and lashed out with her bare foot again. He ducked once more, then drove a fist out and struck her in the temple. 

She whirled about and roundhouse-kicked. The heel of her foot whacked him in the eye socket and sent him spinning. She advanced and slammed her knee into his abdomen; he doubled up, and in desperation, threw his fist out and caught her in the same area. 

He stood straighter as his spider-sense went haywire again. She was kicking directly forward. He caught the foot firmly in his hands and gripped it tightly, so tightly that he thought he might shatter the bones within. 

She jumped up off the other foot, whirled around in the air, and brought it up to strike him in the head again. 

But the spider-sense warned him of it, and the world seemed to slow down again, this time close to stopping time altogether. He watched the foot come up and around, and felt her other one twisting around in his hands. He released her foot and ducked under the other one. 

She landed lightly on both feet, but he didn't give her enough time to recover. He kneed her sharply under the ribs as hard she had done to him. She cried out and soared backwards. 

He leapt up after her and, in midair, shoved his foot into her abdomen once more. As her form bent over his foot, sandwiching it, he lashed out with his other one and struck her in the forehead, momentarily clamping shut a vital vein inside it. 

They both landed next to each other. 

He landed on his feet. 

She landed on her back. 

And that was where she stayed. 

He waited for a few moments, wanting to make certain that she wasn't just "playing dead." But no... she wasn't moving at all, save her chest, rising and falling with each shallow breath. 

A few more tense moments passed. 

Nothing. 

_If she was going to continue, she would have gotten up by now._ Spider-Man bent over her form, grabbed her wrists, and webbed them together, then did the same with her ankles. No sense in letting her get free if she was to awaken at any given moment. 

The police swarmed out of their cars after a few more tense moments, seeing that Mystique was finally down. 

Spider-Man sighed as soon as the cuffs were tightened around her wrists. Now there would be no more imitations of him... at least, for now. 

The police captain approached him. "Spider-Man, under the circumstances, we'd like you to come down to the station with us, if only to clear up this messy business. You've got at least fifteen cops that'll attest to hearing that... thing... admit to impersonating you. And if any information is gonna come out of her, it might as well be to you." 

Spider-Man nodded. "Of course. But I'll be coming my own way." He launched a webline at a nearby building and turned in the direction of the precinct station. 

"Very well," the captain agreed. "See you in five; the men have to get their guns first." 

Spider-Man nodded again, then took to his web. 

_There you have it, Lehnsherr. Your shapeshifter has fallen... and I wouldn't doubt if she were one of your more loyal companions. Now it's time to find out what you've got in mind._

_And why you want me out of the picture._

-------

_Keep reviewing, please! I like reviews!_


	10. Chapter 10

_A/N: Hey hey! It's getting to crunch time for our hero! Those who both have and have not reviewed, I sincerely hope you're enjoying and that I've been keeping your interest!_

_Appreciative Reader: Kudos! It's always nice to try and get the "common man" perspective into a story at some point. Can't always have the superhero leading the narration, can you?_

-------

She had a smug glint in her eyes, and she wasn't hiding it from any of them... least of all the cops. Spider-Man wasn't pleased to see that glimmer. It usually meant that there was even bigger trouble coming, and he really didn't want to deal with bigger trouble. 

But on the other hand, finding out the nature of the bigger trouble was the entire point of bringing her in. 

She glared at the three of them, each one in turn, but her glare softened when her gaze met Spider-Man's. "You defeated me. I will speak to no other." 

Spider-Man knew the underlying meaning of that statement... she wanted the cops out and the recording devices deactivated. He turned to the two policemen who were in the interrogation cell with him, a lieutenant named Wilson and a deputy named Garcia. Neither of them looked very happy about the entire situation, but one could expect that. 

Her words had apparently held the same meaning for them as they had for him, because he saw their frowns deepen upon her statement. The three men exchanged looks for a few moments, and then Spider-Man said, "Can you leave, as a favor to me? She won't say anything otherwise, and you'll have no case. And turn off your recorders, too." He pointed at the camera hanging in one corner of the room. "You boys don't do a very good job of hiding them." 

Wilson grunted in acknowledgment. He really didn't like this situation... turning over the interrogation to a vigilante? But they all knew it had to be done if she was going to say anything at all. He nodded reluctantly, and motioned for Garcia to follow him. 

Garcia glared at Mystique on his way out. She sneered at him in response. 

Spider-Man waited a few moments, wanting to make sure that nobody was listening to them. He stared at the camera until the glaring red light winked out. _Good thing there's no two-way mirror here..._

He took a seat opposite Mystique and laced his fingers together, setting his hands atop the table. "Start talking." 

Her hands were secured behind her back, and the box cuffs were securely attached to a belt cinched tightly around her waist. The belt had a picture identification on it, showing exactly who she was. There was no chance that she could even try to get out without someone seeing who she really was, no matter what form she took. "Where shall we start?" 

"The beginning. Why did Lehnsherr--" 

"His name is Magneto. Learn it. And learn to fear it, while you're at it. Then you can begin to grasp what power he has." 

"There's as much power in a name as there is knowledge of the name. I won't fear it." 

"Foolish." 

"Perhaps. Why did he get so sore about me saying no to his offer?" 

"Paranoia, plain and simple. He believed you would find out about his plan, and he didn't want you interfering. He would have rathered you stay indoors and therefore guarantee your own ignorance, than come outdoors and run the risk of discovering it from one of his own brothers." 

"And what, precisely, is his plan?" 

She sneered. "You're sure you want me to tell you?" 

"Every last detail." 

"Fine. He, and other brilliant minds, have developed a new type of radioactive isotope. It's completely unique, and in small concentrations, it's harmless to anybody. But when it reaches critical mass, it produces a type of radiation that is mutative to human cells. Mutants are unaffected because the mutantcy already exists in us. It operates the same way an A-bomb would... when plutonium reaches critical mass, it can't help but explode. 

"So it is with this 'M-bomb' that when the isotope reaches critical mass, the radiation is produced in doses large enough to take a mutative effect on humans." 

Spider-Man sat back, trying to take this information in. "How much of this isotope does he have?" 

"He created enough to test one prototype, and then eventually enough for the real thing." 

"Who did her perform the test on?" 

"Illegal Mexican immigrants." She allowed herself a small smile. "As if California and Texas haven't been overrun by mutants already." 

Spider-Man ignored the comment. "Was the test successful?" 

"It was." 

"And now?" 

"Magneto possesses an M-bomb with ten times the radius of effect." 

"What was the original radius?" 

"Fifteen hundred feet." 

_Now nearly three miles in every direction..._ "Where is it?" 

"Somewhere in the New York City area. I don't know where it is beyond that. I've not even seen the device, and well that I didn't. I don't even know the size of the device... for all I know, it's the size of a suitcase meant to go off in someone's hand, and no one would realize before it was too late. It's not equipped with any explosives... only a mechanism to bring the two concentrations of the isotope together. And since there would be no direct danger to you," she added, "your detection ability would be significantly hampered." 

_Damn! She's got me there!_ Spider-Man was suddenly grateful for the mask that hid his expression. "Maybe. Maybe not. If he's got it, I think it's a pretty much given fact that he plans to use it. Correct?" 

"Yes." 

"When?" 

"Tomorrow, during the Thanksgiving Day Parade." 

_My God... all those people... they'll be sitting ducks no matter where he sets off the bomb!_

She grinned at him. "Think of it... over a million people will finally realize our struggle, our cause. We'll finally have a voice!" 

He tried to ignore her bizarre bliss for this plotted tragedy. "Where's Black Cat, in the middle of all this?" 

"She's being kept in the sewers under 6th and Main." 

He frowned. "Kept? I thought she was one of you." 

She scoffed. "You fool, that was _me_. I imitated her, the same way I imitated you." 

"Why?" 

"What I told you was partially true... Magneto _did_ offer her a place in the Brotherhood, the same as he offered you one. And she performed right up to your expectations, too, unfortunately... she did her homework before giving him a very firm 'no'. But then she insulted and challenged him. It was a grievous error." 

Spider-Man slowly rose to his feet, and his teeth ground against each other. "If she's been hurt..." 

"Oh, she's most definitely been hurt. But she is not dead. And even if she were, your unspoken threats mean nothing to me, especially here." A small smile flitted across her blue lips. "My brothers do not check up on her very often. Only as often as is required to keep her alive. We did not wish to kill her... only to make her learn a lesson." 

"How long has she been down there?" 

"No more than three days. You have a high chance of finding her when she is not being attended to by my brothers. Not that she will be able to help you, should you choose to defy Magneto further. She will need expert care. If you go against him, you will be alone." 

"I've been alone all this time... why should it be any different now?" 

"You won't be alone for long... soon, you will have an entire city of mutants to contend with. What will you do then, Spider-Man?" 

He stepped out from in front of his seat. "I'll stop him. You can count on that." 

He stalked out of the interrogation room, noting that Wilson and Garcia had kept a respectful distance from the door. They hadn't been listening in. 

"You guys keep two eyes on her," he said as he made his way out of the station. 

*** 

Black Cat ached all over. It had been that way ever since she'd found herself in this sewer, her wrists chained tightly behind her and around an iron pipe. It didn't help that the pipe was rusting, further adding to her pain... the sharp, rusted edges had been cutting into her perfect white gloves, staining them brown and black. Now they were cutting into her skin and flesh, staining her gloves further with her own dark blood, tinting them pink and then red. 

She wasn't sure what ached more... her shoulders or her feet. The pipe was rising sticking out of a concrete pillar, and the bottom elbow of the pipe was just below her butt. Whenever she tried to sit down, her restrained wrists were held fast by that pipe and the chain circling it, and her arms would crank up behind her back painfully. The first time she'd tried, the pain had been almost unbearable, and she'd gotten back to her feet rather quickly. 

Now, though, there was much less pain. She figured that by now, surely she must have wrenched her arms out of their sockets. She'd stopped shouting for help long ago, after her throat had gone so raw from crying and screaming that she couldn't utter another word even if she wanted to. 

Her platinum blond hair was flecked with crusted blood, blood that had flowed from her temple after a particularly sharp chunk of metal had been flung at her by that Lehnsherr character. Her dirty face was stained with tears... what if she were doomed to stay here forever, serviced by some random mutant who shoveled food into her mouth and upended a cup of cold water over the food three times a day? What if she never saw her mother again, or Peter? What if...? 

She sighed. She had cried those tears out already. There was no use in shedding them again. She had struggled against the chain for three days, and to no avail. Not even rapping it against the rusted area of the pipe was helping... all that served to do was to have the rust cut deeper into her arms. 

_Time to face the facts_, she thought. _There's no way I can get out of this by myself. I can only pray that someone -- somehow -- finds me down here. If only I could keep shouting!_

Splashing could be heard not too far away, and she attributed that to another one of those mutants coming down here to check up on her and feed her, just as they had been doing for three days now. 

_Just like they might be doing for weeks... months..._

She sagged down to the ground. _Dammit, where's a Spider when I need one?_

And then she heard the shout. "Cat! Are you down here?!" 

She perked up... she didn't know how, but she knew at that moment that he'd found some way to get to her. She opened her mouth and tried to shout back, but it was nothing coherent, and her throat was so raw at that point that she couldn't maintain a shout for more than half a second. 

The splashing came closer and closer, and she tried to keep her head up long enough to see him when he came around the corner. 

"Cat!" 

She could barely keep her eyes open. _I'm so tired..._

The splashing stopped and was replaced by the sound of wet boots running on pavement. He only had another few feet or so to go. _Just stay awake long enough to see him, you big dope... then you can rest..._

And around the corner came the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen, garbed in red and blue, his concern obvious even through his mask. "Cat! Oh, my God! Hang on, I'm gonna get you out of here!" 

She smiled faintly. _I knew he could come through..._

She let her head bob down... let herself rest. 

*** 

Spider-Man was shocked that Lehnsherr -- no, Magneto -- would stoop this low. _Abandoning her here to her own pain and misery? What sort of lesson teaching is this? Is he just of the mindset that people don't say "no" to him?_

He raced up to her and pulled her up into a standing position. He stared at the chain that tightly encircled her wrists and the iron pipe for a moment, wondering how to best disengage her from it. _The pipe's probably hollow, and if so..._

He grabbed the pipe firmly and pulled with all his might. The pipe tore straight from its mooring, and he slipped it out from among the chain's circle. He threw Black Cat over his shoulder and took off to the nearest hospital. 

_She's strong... she'll make it... but not in time to help me. Mystique was right. I'm in this alone._

*** 

"He found her." 

"It doesn't matter anymore. She can't help him. And now that the device is finished, all that's left to do is place it." 

"Too many cops snooping around the area right now. We'll have to wait until the parade to place it... then there'll be so many people that the cops won't be able to keep track of them all." 

"Very well." 

*** 

Spider-Man returned to the Parker residence after leaving Black Cat in the expert care of the local hospital. They understood that they were not to go snooping after her real identity, as per their policy with other superheroes who did not wish to be discovered. 

He sighed as he climbed through the window and shut it behind him. It was very late by now, and the cops' graveyard shift was starting. Young-blooded cops who wouldn't allow themselves to be caught off-guard so easily... Spider-Man admired those kids' enthusiasm for the job, as compared to their elders and superiors who sat around in donut shops. 

He pulled off his sweat-stained mask and slammed it on the bed in frustration. _By myself on this one, and each member of the Brotherhood is tearing away at me a bit more. How much more do I have left to give? Who else will I have to fight? What'll happen by the time I get to Magneto? He'll try to scrap me like he did Black Cat, I know he will._

He pulled off his costume and changed into night clothes. _I won't be able to sleep much tonight, but on the other hand, I shouldn't have to stink up the place just because of that. And especially with a ripped costume._ He snorted ruefully at the rips and tears in the back of the costume from when Mystique had thrown him through the cop car windshield. 

Peter removed his extra web cartridges and tracers from his belt, threw the costume into a plastic bag and tied it off, then left it next to the washing machine. _MJ was always much better about fixing things like that than I ever was._ He made his way out to the kitchen and made himself several sandwiches, suddenly realizing how hungry he was. In the midst of all this fighting, he'd almost completely forgotten that he needed to eat to survive. 

He settled himself in front of the television and took to watching the stupid infomercials, the only thing that came on the air at this hour of the night. _So, who wants to see this baby make melon juice while it predicts the future?!_ _Oooo-OOOO-ooooh!_ he thought. 

He found his eyelids drooping, and he knew that if he didn't stop watching the infomercials, he would most definitely fall asleep... and remain that way possibly through the entire parade. _Wouldn't that be something, to sleep my way through a bomb? What a way to spend my Thanksgiving. Being here without MJ is bad enough... I don't need this..._

He set the alarm clock on the nightstand next to his chair. _If I _do_ drop off, at least I'll wake up and be an hour early for the parade... and sleep right about now wouldn't be so bad, would it? After all, if I'm gonna fight bad guys, I need it..._

He didn't think any more on the subject. 

He slept. 

*** 

The next morning found Spider-Man taking to his webs in thirty-six degree weather. _Jeez, first a heat wave, and now this... I hate El Nino._

A crowd estimated at about a million had already gathered at Rockefeller Plaza to gaze and gape at the floats and displays and balloons passing by. Spider-Man gorund his teeth at the continued massing of people... if only he could have told the police something about all this... 

But he couldn't. To call off the Thanksgiving Day Parade would be to clue Magneto in that his plan had been discovered. He'd take the bomb to some random location of the New York City area and set it off there... at least here, Spider-Man had a chance of finding it. 

_Of course, there's no guarantee that he hasn't set the bomb already. If it's suitcase-sized, he could just hold it in his hand and set it off from there._

He sighed. _Too many uncertainties, but he's not going to set it off until the parade starts. So I guess I'll just wait here for the moment._

*** 

"He's up there." 

"You're certain?" 

"Positive. Want me to take care of him? You can move this thing yourself, I think." 

"Wait until the parade begins, then draw him away from the area. If he's here, he'll be expecting us to do something during the parade, not before. Make sure he doesn't get in the way." 

"You got it." 

*** 

Spider-Man didn't get the chills that easily. He had built up a tolerance to cold weather, but right now, it was almost driving him crazy. _Let's get some action going before I have to go to the store and buy a coat, like every other sane person here today..._

Having been relatively motionless for an hour was not only making him cold, it was also making him uneasy. _The closer the parade gets, the worse I feel about all this. Guess the problem is that I've got all this time to think about what's going to happen, and meanwhile there's no action. At least the action is head-clearing._

He saw the floats beginning their long procession through the streets of New York City. He sighed. _Finally._

The floats wound their way through the streets. Their drivers knew the path well, and even if they didn't, it was rather well-marked by thousands of people standing along the streets and corners. Even if they didn't know precisely where their turns were, just from the people they would know where they were expected to go. 

_How convenient_, was Spider-Man's opinion. _I could be down there right now, driving one of those things for an undoubtedly outrageous amount of money to live on for weeks. Instead, I'm way up here, freezing my digits off, waiting for the bad guys to come out and reveal the red button._

Soon enough, however, the first float made its way to the street directly below. He stared down at it, spying the boy band standing next to the railing and waving at the crowd. _And the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man is ignored. Oh, well... he's got pressing business._

The background music for the band started playing, and the float stopped moving just a few yards beyond the building Spider-Man was on. 

His spider-sense flared. He whirled around and held his web-shooters at the ready. 

A man had just landed on the other side of the roof. He was short, though it was somewhat hard to tell by the way he was hunching. He was crouched in a form similar to Spider-Man's, sitting on his heels and using his hands for balance. His skin had a slight green tinge to it, and his short black hair didn't look as if it had seen water in years. His eyes were almost unnaturally large, and the overall effect was making him look like a human frog. 

He grinned at Spider-Man with small teeth, and he licked his lips hungrily with a long green tongue, almost reminiscent of Venom. "A spider. One of my favorite meals." 

His long tongue suddenly shot forward, fast as a snake... but Spider-Man was faster, leaping out of the way. He fired a line of web at the roof surface to ensure he didn't fall over the edge, and he pulled himself back down. 

"Contrary to popular belief," Spider-Man retorted, "I am _not_ food. The first song is starting... so let's dance." 

"And the Toad agrees." The mutant called Toad let loose his tongue once again and jabbed even faster than before. It struck Spider-Man as a vicious uppercut, and he was thrown over the edge of the building. 

He quickly sprayed a stream of web at the roof's ledge, then turned his fall into a long, arcing swing that brought him back up on another side of the building. He released the web at the top of his swing and let himself fall back down to the roof. 

Toad hadn't moved. When he saw Spider-Man land on another section of the roof, he snorted. "Good." 

"So glad you approve," said Spider-Man. He took a running leap at the mutant, only to see Toad's tongue coming up to meet him. He caught it in one hand and took it with him on his way down. When he landed, he grabbed the tongue with his other hand and began spinning around. Toad cried out as he was pulled off his feet and into the air from the force of Spider-Man's spinning. 

Spider-Man finally released the tongue and sent Toad flying over the edge of the building, and away from the crowds. He then chased after the mutant. _I have to find out where Magneto is and take him out before he sets off that bomb._

They both landed on the next building to the west; Toad on his back, Spider-Man on his feet. Spider-Man leapt on top of Toad and grabbed him by the leather jacket he wore. 

"Where's Magneto?" he hissed. 

Toad's response was to glare menacingly, and then to spit in Spider-Man's mask. Spider-Man jumped back in surprise... whatever Toad had just expelled from his mouth, it wasn't spit of any type he'd encountered... it was a thick fluid that seemed to cement to his mask the instant it hit, and it had been aimed at the lenses. 

Toad threw Spider-Man off of him, then leapt up high and came down to stomp on the wall crawler. Spider-Man had only a spit-second's time, provided to him by his spider-sense, to roll blindly out of the way. He pried away at the cemented saliva with one hand while using the other to stagger to his feet. 

He heard Toad's boots crushing the gravel in a straight line towards him, and he was doing it at running speed... whatever he was planning on doing next, it was going to hurt. Spider-Man stumbled to his left while pulling away at the hardened material even harder. He finally managed to tear a chunk off his right lens, and he found himself just in time to see Toad execute a drop-kick. 

The kick lifted Spider-Man off his feet and sent him flying over to the next roof to the south. He landed on his butt, skidded, and came to a stop against an air vent. He ignored the stinging pain and pulled off another chunk, this time over his left lens. He was sure there was more material on his mask, but at this point, he didn't care much. He'd suffered worse damage. 

Spider-Man got to his feet and watched as Toad leapt from building to building. As the mutant was in transit from his roof to the one Spider-Man was atop, the wall crawler aimed and fired two streams of webbing. Toad tried to avoid the strands, but it was understandably difficult for him to change direction in midair. 

The two lines caught Toad's ankles, and Spider-Man pulled hard on them as Toad soared overhead. The mutant cried out and his tongue flailed about, looking for a way to stop him before he performed a lethal belly flop onto the roof. At the last instant, it wrapped around a flagpole, and he pulled himself away from Spider-Man. The webslinger was violently dragged into the air behind Toad by his weblines, and he became the one soaring past. 

As Toad steadied himself, Spider-Man flew past the edge of the building and fell six stories. He barely managed to fire off another line in time, this one securing itself a street lamp next to a grocery store. He swung hard and low, but he couldn't stop his momentum, and when he released the line, he crashed through the front window of the store. 

_Thank God no one's working here today_, he thought, as he struggled to his feet. He saw a speck rising from the building he's just vacated, and that speck turned into Toad as it got closer. He landed in the parking lot, then made another prodigious leap through the destroyed window and tackled Spider-Man. 

Spider-Man rolled back, brought his feet up between himself and Toad, and shoved off. Toad went flying into a display of green bean cans. _Good lord, we're playing a huge game of leapfrog... rather appropriate for a toad._

The webslinger rolled to his feet and held true to his nickname, firing off another pair of webs at Toad. They stuck to the mutant's chest and arm, and in response, Toad opened his mouth and lashed out with his tongue, wrapping it around Spider-Man's ankle. Spider-Man was pulled off his feet and thrown into the ceiling, and then the next aisle. 

Toad jumped straight through the groceries separating the two aisles to face his foe. Spider-Man was still trying to recover from hitting the tiled floor so hard, and Toad took advantage of that. 

"Time for the kill!" he crowed, and with that, he released his tongue once more and wrapped it around Spider-Man's head, depriving him of desperately needed air. 

Spider-Man didn't even have time to think about it... it was reflexive. He yanked his head out from the tightening circle of Toad's tongue. It took him a moment to realize that he'd left a rather vital item behind in his haste to put air into his lungs, and he realized it as soon as Toad unraveled his tongue and let that item drop to the floor, sopping wet one instant and totally enclosed in cemented fluid the next. 

His mask. 

He glanced up at Toad, his eyes filling with horror. 

Toad grinned. "Well, well. We see the face of the enemy at last." 

He had only an instant to think about what he was going to do now. 

_Now what? Am I Peter Parker, or am I Spider-Man? Without the mask, I'd be recognized as Peter Parker everywhere... but with the costume, I'd also be recognized as Spider-Man._

_What makes a hero?_

Toad took advantage of his enemy's sudden stupor by leaping forward, ready to take him out. 

And he was surprised and pained when he found himself lying on the floor next to the frozen groceries a moment later, his nose leaking blood. 

_It's not the costume. It's the action taken._

The man clenched his hands in determination, and aloud, he said, "I'm Spider-Man." 

He jumped forward and tackled Toad, driving him through the glass of the frozen products door. The cart behind that door was knocked backward from the force of the hit, and Toad tried to struggle to his feet again, to take the offensive. 

Spider-Man didn't let him have the opportunity. He drove another fist into Toad's face, slamming it across the mutant's jaw, then whipped out a leg and caught the mutant in the abdomen. Toad flew back and crashed into the cart again, then sagged to the floor. 

The wall crawler sent out webs that caught the mutant in the chest, then yanked back on them, causing Toad to soar straight at him. He threw a flurry of punches: right hook, left hook, roundhouse, jab, right hook, and another right hook. Toad staggered under the power of the blows, and his tongue lolled out and trailed along the floor. 

Spider-Man leapt to the side and landed near one of the refrigeration units. Toad's tongue lashed out in desperation, but Spider-Man rolled to the right and batted the tongue away. It whipped out again, this time trying to ram his directly in the abdomen. 

The webslinger jumped up, attached his hands to the ceiling, and flipped his feet up to secure himself as much as avoid the vicious extremity. The tongue struck against the refrigeration unit, and when he tried to pull it back, Toad cried out in pain. 

Spider-Man grinned and got down from the ceiling. "Didn't your mother every tell you not to lick frost?" 

He tackled Toad, and the mutant's tongue was violently ripped from the unit. Toad screamed, his tongue now dripping dark fluids, and he retracted it into his mouth. 

Spider-Man saw the opportunity and took it, spraying web over Toad's mouth and sealing it shut. Then he threw one last punch, and Toad's head banged against the floor. 

The mutant slumped back, unconscious. 

Spider-Man shakily rose to his feet, his breath shuddering. He ached all over from the exertions of the past few days, and he was almost ready to just quit. 

_But I can't. Not yet. Magneto's going to set off that bomb... no matter how tired I am, I have to stop him._

He returned to the aisle where his mask had been dropped, and he stomped on it several times. The hardened slime came off in chunks, as it had before, and soon, he had it almost completely cleaned off. _I hope this stuff washes off... otherwise I'm going to need a new mask after this..._

Spider-Man donned his mask, exited the grocery store, and ran back out into the streets. 

_Now to find Magneto._

_I hope I'm not too late._

-------

_...as do we all! Please review!_


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N: It's been a week... I think it's time for an update! Thus begins the last battle!_

_Elleira: I've been worried I've been going OOC with Peter / Spidey. Glad I was wrong, at least in your view!_

_ShadowShock: Muchas gracias!_

_Skittles: You're about to find out!_

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Spider-Man took to his webs quickly, desperate to find Magneto. His fight with Toad had lasted no more than a few minutes, but that was enough for the first float to have made it through perhaps half the route. The parade was well underway, and Rockefeller Plaza was full to overflowing with people. 

He swung high enough that he couldn't easily be observed by the crowds below, but when it came to the reverence that the Brotherhood afforded the man, Spider-Man wasn't satisfied that Magneto would be unable to see him. From the single meeting that they'd had, the wall crawler knew that Magneto was quite observant. 

He felt his spider-sense buzzing faintly. He still didn't know what its limits were... direct physical danger was what it interpreted the best, but other threats present and invisible at first glance were also detected, through some mysterious pre-cognition passed on to him by the spider that had bitten him. 

Feeling decidedly desperate, he swung low, allowing himself to be seen by the crowds. _Hopefully Magneto won't have enough time... but knowing how sharp he is, I wouldn't doubt if it'd take him half a second to figure out that I whipped his lackey..._

The sense buzzed harder, and he glanced over his shoulder in time to see a stray piece of metal debris flying straight at him. 

He ducked his head and released his webline, tucking into a cannonball for a moment. The debris sailed over his head and slammed into the building to his left. He fired off a line at the building's wall then, swinging around and coming to rest high above the crowd. 

He glanced around in all directions, the spider-sense dragging his eyes into a general area across the plaza. And he saw his quarry hanging in midair, twice as high as he was. 

Magneto was no longer wearing the gentlemanly suit he'd had the night they had met... he had exchanged that for a black one-piece jumpsuit, over which he wore a crimson chest plate and matching shoulder guards, wristbands, and boots. There was a giant, beautiful, painstakingly carved amethyst inset into the center of the chest plate. A long, flowing, royal purple cape draped his shoulders and extended all the way to the heels of his boots, and he wore a crimson helmet. 

Spider-Man spun another web and swung up to meet the Master of Magnetism, but Magneto wordlessly gestured off to his left, and a piece of pipe slammed into Spider-Man midair. The webslinger recovered and shot a line at Magneto himself, but a manhole cover came up to cover for the powerful mutant. 

Then it shot backward and hit Spider-Man in the chest, throwing him against the wall of an office building. Spider-Man recovered just enough to stick himself against the wall, to keep himself from falling on top of the people below. 

The manhole cover came up at him from below and forcibly lifted him onto the top of the building. As soon as he landed face-down on the gravel, the cover pressed down on his back, nearly depriving him of breath. 

Magneto floated through the air and came to a stop over Spider-Man. He hovered there for a few moments as Spider-Man struggled against the magnetic field holding the manhole cover down on him. 

"You still don't understand what you're doing, Spider-Man," said Magneto. "The humans believe they can lash out against mutants without the possibility of retaliation. They knew the food that Pyro burned was poisoned. The councilman that Quicksilver and Scarlet Witch went after was content to let us die in internment camps... abominable places no more worthy of this so-called land of peace and tolerance than the German concentration camps of sixty years ago. J. Jonah Jameson even directly attacked you, as well as the rest of the mutant population, in that detestable article." 

"And believe me, it took all of my will to even attempt to save him," Spider-Man responded, still pushing against the heavy metal artifice. 

"Then why did you feel he deserved to live any more than Sabretooth believed he deserved it?" 

"I didn't. But the humans are afraid of mutants... that's how it's going to work, whether you like it or not... and they project their fear that way. They can't help being afraid any more than you can help being a mutant." 

"Perhaps. But now they will become like us, and see what it is like to be persecuted so. I don't understand... do you _wish_ for the mutant population to be persecuted and exterminated?" 

"No... but I'm not going to stop protecting the humans from people like you... people who take advantage of human fear and turn it into your greatest ally. Your way, we'll always be feared, but we'll never be respected. My way, there will be a time when humans and mutants can come to an understanding and live with each other." 

Magneto scoffed. "You are as foolish and blind as Charles Xavier and his lot. Humans and mutants can never live together in peace. It will be one or the other... and I do not choose to die without a fight!" 

Spider-Man arched an arm behind his back and sprayed webbing at Magneto. He wasn't being very particular about where it hit, or even _if_ it hit... only that it might have some sort of effect on the man. 

It did, at that... the webline struck Magneto in the thigh, and he jerked backward in midair in surprise. He lost control of the magnetic field that was preventing Spider-Man from tossing away the manhole cover, and Spider-Man leapt to his feet. He yanked backward on the webline, pulling Magneto down from his perch in the air, and he slammed his fist into the side of the mutant's helmet. 

Magneto stumbled backward, not used to being physically attacked, and especially not as quickly as this. He let his power take over, and street lamps, trash cans, and even benches soared to his defense, creating a whirling vortex around the wall crawler. 

Spider-Man jumped over the edge of the building and web-swung his way over the streets, not wanting any of the people below to be hurt. He felt the metal in his web-shooters giving slight sway to the roiling magnetic fields around him, but his strength seemed to be holding out against them for the moment. They weren't slowing him down, for now. 

He attached a webline to a crane arm and swung hard. He revolved in a complete circle around the arm, then came back around for another turn before releasing the line. The g-force of his momentum was enough to carry him to another office building, where he latched onto a flagpole and made a sharp turnaround, debris following him all the while. 

He came in for another attack on Magneto, but yet another piece of debris flew up and struck his in the face. Whatever else the debris was, it was sharp, and a huge gash was sliced across his mask, extending from the bridge of his nose to his left jaw. 

He fell from his webline and only barely managed to hang onto consciousness. He fired another webline at a building and dangled wildly on the end of it before coming to a crashing halt against the wall. 

Chunks of metal debris pounded his back, one after the other, and pressed against him tightly. He shot a stream at the ledge of the roof above and pulled himself away from the objects, then returned to his erratic maneuvers meant to trip up the Master of Magnetism. 

Spider-Man finally managed to make his way back to the building where Magneto was located. The mutant was facing the opposite direction, and his attention seemed to be focused elsewhere. The wall crawler raced up to attack Magneto with a drop-kick to the small of his back, but more debris came up to block his path. A trash can slammed him in the chest, and a broken television smacked his shoulder. 

Magneto turned around and approached the downed webslinger. He smiled grimly. "We can play this game all day, Spider-Man. I have the time for it, as well as the will and the patience. Especially since the device is now set to activate; there's no way to deactivate it. I have needed a good exercise for my abilities, and you're providing a healthy dose of it. I thank you for that." 

"Obliged, I'm sure," Spider-Man snorted, and he brought a foot up to meet Magneto's chest. The mutant was thrown into the air, but Spider-Man fired a line of web at him, brought him back down to the roof, and repeated the action. He pulled Magneto back down again when he soared into the air, and this time he brought his other foot up to slam into the metal manipulator's helmet. 

Magneto frantically called for his metal protection, and a street lamp answered. It streaked straight at the wall crawler, but Spider-Man leapt high over it and fired off a webline after it. At the same time, he shot one at Magneto and mashed the ends of the lines together. 

Magneto, caught by his shoulder, was suddenly and violently jerked off his feet by the webbing and his own flying metal. 

Spider-Man leapt into the air once again, looking to finish his job, when his spider-sense buzzed even more faintly than it had when he'd first sensed Magneto. It was just enough to make him turn his head. 

His eyes involuntarily set on one of the Thanksgiving Day Parade balloons, one that looked like Snoopy from the world-popular comic strip _Peanuts_. 

_That could be where the M-bomb is..._ Spider-Man aborted any further action against Magneto and headed for that balloon. _It would make sense for it to be in a balloon... minimum cover for the bomb's effects and maximum fallout effect, as well as maximum radius. He had this well-planned._

He swung low and hard over the center of the parade, almost striking members of a marching band in their plumes and sousaphones. He made a mental note to apologize later, and pushed up as high as he could swing before releasing his line. The momentum carried him up to the top of the balloon. 

He landed lightly atop the giant floating structure, his feet sinking three inches into the material. He got down on one knee and pressed his hand firmly against the material. The miniature, razored "claws" residing in his digits extended, and he dragged his hand across the material, leaving multiple miniature slashes in the fabric. One solid heel was all it took to put a hole in it, and he stuck his head and arm inside. 

The balloon -- naturally -- smelled of helium, and he knew that he'd have to get out pretty quickly if he didn't want to get any more lightheaded than he already was. He searched around quickly for a device that didn't look as if it should belong there, and in moments, he discovered the device suspended on Snoopy's spine. 

_Mystique certainly is mystic_, Spider-Man thought. The device certainly did look to be no larger than a businessman's suitcase, although those tended to be large enough. He wasn't quite sure how Magneto had managed to get it in here, but at this point, he didn't really care. He released a line of web at it and pulled with all his might, which caused the balloon to expel quite a large amount of helium in the process. 

The device loosened from its mooring and flew up to meet Spider-Man. He shoved his other hand in through the opening just in time to catch the device with both hands, and he pulled himself out of the hole as fast as he possibly could. 

Spider-Man webbed the device securely to his back and leapt off Snoopy, who was seriously deflating. He web-swung as far away from the crowd as far as he felt safe taking the device, but he was sure it was going to go off in the next few minutes or so... the floats meant for the middle of the parade were making their way down the streets now, and the middle would be just where and when Magneto would want the device to go off, when the concentration of people is at its highest. 

He landed in an alleyway and stayed there just long enough to pry open a manhole cover. He struggled with it for a few precious moments, his fingers fumbling with it. 

His spider-sense buzzed hard. 

"Here, let me help you with that." 

The manhole cover flew up and slammed Spider-Man in the forehead, knocking him backward. He stumbled back into the alley wall and rubbed his forehead, dazed. 

"You can still end the pain for yourself, Spider-Man," said Magneto, floating down between the buildings. "My offer stands... at any time, you can join my Brotherhood. We can free our brothers and sisters from where they are being held... we can recruit more to our cause and let our voices be heard! Don't you wish, as a mutant, for your voice to be heard?" 

Spider-Man ignored Magneto and jumped for the manhole. The cover was sealing it now, however, and when he tried to pry it up, it smacked him in the face again, lightning quick. This time, Spider-Man fell to the ground. 

Magneto shook his head. "You still don't understand. You're protecting the humans for no reason. They will come to despise you and call for you to be hanged, just as they did during the Salem witch trials of old. Why bother defending those that wish to be your enemies?" 

"Because... the humans... still have so much... to contribute," Spider-Man responded, out of breath. "And you're not... the one who gets... to decide when one will dominate another." 

Magneto's eyes hardened. "My boy, you have chosen a long, hard path that will ultimately leave you alone and unwanted by anyone." 

Spider-Man shook his head. "No... that's the path _you_ chose. My path will take me somewhere... I know it will." 

"Not if it ends here." Magneto's grim smile returned. "And without the help of any of your so-called allies, you have no hope of matching me." 

"I was doing well enough." 

"The only thing you're doing well at now is your dazzling riposte, and even that is quickly fading away. So you'll forgive me if I choose to skip that and take back what is mine... and soon to be the gift of New York..." 

Magneto exerted his power to pull the device away from Spider-Man's back. 

Spider-Man snapped up and fired a web bolt at Magneto. The bolt knocked him off-balance, and Spider-Man used that to pull him down from the air and slam his fist into the mutant's abdomen. Magneto staggered and slammed into the opposite wall, but Spider-Man didn't let it stop there... he weblined the mutant, pulled him close, and used his feet to pull Magneto's helmet off his head. He shoved the helmet into the pit of Magneto's stomach, and when the mutant staggered back, Spider-Man pulled him close again with the web. 

He punched the Master of Magnetism directly between the eyes. 

Magneto fell back, dazed. 

Spider-Man picked up the device and ran across the street, where there was another alley and another manhole cover. He pried it up, tossed it to the side, and jumped through the opening, taking the device with him. 

The fall seemed to last forever... he was descending into the sub-sewer, far below the streets of New York. When he landed, he almost fell back due to the near-unbearable shock to his knees. However, he managed to withstand the pressure and he bounded for the nearest point furthest away from water. 

_Just a little further... just a little further..._

And then a golden light emerged from the device he was carrying, followed by a strange warmth. The light expanded outward, enveloping everything in its glow and warmth. 

_It's going off...!_

Spider-Man curled into a fetal position around the device, trying to cover its radiation with his own body, even as little protection as that might provide. 

_Let's hope these tunnels are enough..._

He closed his eyes and waited for it to pass. 

*** 

Magneto lay there, stunned by the seemingly spontaneous beating Spider-Man had administered him. His body ached, most of all his abdomen. He could barely move without feeling sickened, and he had little doubt that he would be black and blue in several places for a while. 

He pulled his wrist into the air, just high enough for him to see what time his watch told him. 

The device should have gone off by now. 

He closed his eyes and slumped his head back to the ground. 

If the effects of the radiation could not be seen, that meant that the device had been enclosed somewhere, its intensity lessened to the point of ineffectiveness. 

Spider-Man had won the battle. 

And he had cast his lot with the humans permanently. 

*** 

Spider-Man slowly climbed his way back to the surface, feeling hopeful and discouraged at the same time. He wasn't sure which one to feel more of now... 

_Is everyone all right? What if it got through?_

He climbed through the manhole and made his way over to where Magneto lay. He slumped down on his butt and sat there for several long moments. 

"I hope... you're happy," Magneto muttered. "You've just condemned mutantkind to hideous death by humanity's ignorance. Now we shall never be heard. How could you turn against your own kind like this? I don't understand..." 

"No," said Spider-Man. "You _don't_ understand. And you never will, as long as you refuse to accept that you're as human as you are mutant. That's your problem: you allow _what_ you are to govern _who_ you are. Life has hardened you into the man that I see now, a man who has rejected his humanity in favor of his mutantcy. 

"But mutants are born of humans, just as humans are born of humans. We're just as diverse... just as fallible as any human that walks this Earth. That's something no one can deny, as much as he might want to." 

Spider-Man looked down at Magneto. "You're Erik Lehnsherr when circumstances demand, but you _are_ Magneto. That's where the rift between mutants like you and mutants like me begin. I choose to wrangle my identities equally because I recognize that I'm as much of a human as I am a mutant." He smiled slightly under his mask. "And, believe it or not, I wasn't born a mutant. I was fully human. I didn't receive that special gene. It was forced onto me. Now I live with it from day to day... the only way I know how. 

"Mutantkind won't die because of humanity's ignorance. If anything, mutantkind will sooner die because of our own. It's our stubbornness, a gift and a curse granted to us by our human parents, that might very well be our downfall. But you can't attribute an event that may never take place solely to humanity. You can't put them on trial and bring about judgment for a crime they have yet to commit." 

"But they shall, if you have your way and mutants do not fight back," said Magneto. "If people like you choose mutantkind's fate, we'll live eternally on our knees." 

Spider-Man shook his head. "No. Cooperation will happen. I've found that for every one radical that wants to 'do something about the mutants', there's almost always five others that want that 'something' to be a positive thing. Give them time." 

"Humans have time. We don't." 

"We'll see about that. I, for one, believe that they'll accept us... they'll come to see us for what we truly are." 

"And what, precisely, would that be?" 

Spider-Man got to his feet, exited the alley, and searched for the nearest payphone. The police would have a field day with Magneto in their prison once again. He spotted a phone down the block, then turned back to the mutant and allowed his smile to grow. 

"What else would we be? We're all part of our own vast, unique, diverse... and ultimately human Brotherhood of Mutants." 

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_Review? Please?_


	12. Epilogue

_A/N: Just a cute little epilogue. I hope you've all enjoyed reading this. I certainly enjoyed writing it! Thanks to all reviewers... hey, thanks to all readers, too, even if you didn't review! You took time out. That's the important thing!_

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Spider-Man swung through the bedroom window of the Parker residence. It had been a trying time explaining to the authorities what had happened with the Snoopy balloon, but once they'd brought Magneto in, Mystique had been willing to share what she knew and corroborate Spider-Man's story. It was determined that Spider-Man acted appropriately for such short notice, and accusations were dropped. 

He was surprised to see that someone was sitting on the bed. 

That someone was none other than his wife. 

She stood up, smiling her beautiful smile, and she rushed into his arms, hugging him tightly. 

"My hero!" she squealed in girlish delight. 

He hugged back just as tightly and held her close. "What're you doing back? I thought you were going to go for more acting parts!" 

"I heard my husband was getting himself into trouble. I wanted to make sure that he got out of it okay." She smiled at him and pulled his mask off. "I've really missed you, tiger." 

"I've missed you, too." 

Their lips met each other, and stayed with each other for a long time. They hugged even more tightly, and sat down on the bed. 

When they pulled away from the kiss, MJ sighed contentedly and drew little circles on his costumed chest with her finger. "Welcome home." 

He smiled and kissed her again. 

_Welcome home._


End file.
